Coon and Friends Return
by Pajaros en la cabeza
Summary: As they step into adulthood, our friends from South Park forget about their past fantasy games. However, an accident makes those make-belief superhero plays very real. As real as the menace that comes with their powers. T because this is South Park, after all. Based on the Coon and Friends episodes and Fractured But Whole. NOW COMPLETE.
1. Accident at the fair

_**SOUTH PARK**_ **IS A SHOW BY TREY PARKER AND MATT STONE**

* * *

The hairdresser had done an amazing job with his hair. Kyle couldn't stop looking at himself in the mirror, touching it, admiring it. It was juvenile and good-looking—he didn't need to hide it under a hat anymore.

"IIIIIIke!"

"What do you want, mom? I'm doing a streaming!"

"You're going to the fair with your brother."

"No."

"Yes, you will. You need to get outside. Look at this lovely night. Come on, you don't want to waste your life in front of a screen."

"What if I want to? It's my life."

"I told you to go with your brother!"

"Alright, alright!"

Kyle snorted. Great, he would have to be a baby sitter. Sheila came into the bathroom, not knocking at the door first, as usual.

"Kyle..."

"Yes, I know, I'll take Ike with me tonight."

"Don't use that tone with me, young man!"

"I'm sooorry."

Sheila left and Ike came, evidently not pleased with the idea either.

"This sucks."

"Yeah, I know, but what do you want me to do?"

Ike sighed. "What are you guys going to do?"

"Nothing, we just wanted to have a few drinks and such."

"I'm telling mom."

"I'm not going to drink any alcohol, you dumbass! You really think I want mom to kill me? Come on, go change yourself, they'll be here-"

Ding dong!

"-soon. Come on, hurry."

It was Ike's turn to snort as he left the bathroom. Kyle just had to put collogne on.

"Coming!"

Gerald was in the living room at the moment, so he got up and opened the door himself.

"Oh, hi, Stan."

"Good night, Mr. Broflovski."

Gerald saw Randy at the bar often but he hadn't seen his son in a while, so he was surprised to see him with a beard. Also, what did Sharon feed him with? He was so burly. Did he go to the gym? In that case, he could take Kyle with him, he look like a spaguetti since puberty made him so tall. Oh, it seemed it was yesterday when both of them were just a couple of little boys with high-pitched voices, no facial hair and no hormones!

"Kyle's almost-"

"I'm here!" Kyle ran down the stairs. "Hey, dude."

"Hi, you're ready?"

"Almost. Come on, Ike!"

"Shut up, I'm coming!"

Stan looked inquisitively at his friend and he look he gave him was enough to make him understand that it was an order from Sheila. It was always an order from Sheila. Ike went down with just his Converse on.

"Okay, we're leaving."

"Alright, boys, have fun." Gerald told them, sitting down again.

"Call me!" Sheila demanded from the kitchen.

"Sure, mom!"

"So, do you know if Kenny's coming?" Stan asked Kyle.

"I think so. Last time I talked to him, he told me he was up."

"Oh, look, here comes Cartman."

There was a hint of disappointment in Stan's voice. After what happened between him and Wendy at the mall, Stan was reluctant to go anywhere with Cartman. Not until he matured. But he insisted and one couldn't say no to Cartman when he wanted something. That night, he was wearing a shirt that looked frankly good on him. He hadn't lost any weight lately, but it almost gave the feeling he was thinner.

"Hey." was his greeting. He looked at Ike with narrowed eyes and Ike gave him the bird.

"What's up, Cartman?" Kyle asked.

"Anyone knows if Kenny's in jail this time?"

"I'm not!"

Cartman turned around. Ah, speaking of the Devil, there he was. And he wasn't looking ready to kill, really, but ready to die.

"Dude, what happened to your face?" Stan frowned, looking at the dry blood in his nose, the bruise in his cheek.

"Nothing." Kenny smiled, and the boys added a broken front tooth to the list. "Let's go."

Kyle and Stan glanced at each other and decided to go along and pretend they saw nothing. Kenny never wanted to talk about it, but everyone knew what he did to get money. Illegal fights, some terrible jobs...It wouldn't be a surprise if he just came back from the police station—for the third time in that week.

"Okay, let's go." Cartman sniffed around, moving closer to Kyle. "What's that smell?"

"Uh, my cologne." Kyle replied.

"It's awful, throw it away."

"I told you." Ike nodded.

"You shut up. Listen, I'll give you twenty dollars if you leave us alone."

"Fifty."

"Mmph! Okay, fifty. But don't you dare drink alcohol or-"

"Yes, mommy."

Ike left before Kyle could kick him. It seemed he was heading to the shooting game, but it was hard to know, because he was soon lost in the crowd. All of South Park seemed to have decided to enjoy the fair in its first night open.

"Wanna have a drink?" Kenny suggested.

"Well, alright, but no alcohol for me." Kyle said, revising how much money he had left—definitely not enough. Stupid Ike...

"What a pussy." Cartman chuckled.

"Shut up, I'm not a pussy."

"Yes, you are. You are afraid of your mother, you couldn't even tell her you didn't want to be a babysitter."

"No wonder." Stan muttered.

"It has nothing to do with my mom. I just don't want to get drunk and do something I regret in the morning."

"Well, my body's asking for a good gintonic tonight." Kenny said, running a hand over one of his bruises.

They made their way to the stand through the crowd. The color lights were puzzling but gave the space a pleasant, dreamy atmosphere. Those people who were already drunk had to be experiencing the trip of their lives. All of the rides had the music so loud that the result was a cacophony which made everyone's ears ring.

"Fellas! Hey, fellas!"

Someone grabbed Stan's arm. Butters made his way through the people to meet the group.

"Oh, Butters, hi."

"What's up, Butters?"

"I came here wih my parents, they're right there. Long time no see, right? Geez, Kenny, what happened to your face?"

"Euh, nothing. What have you been doing?"

"College. Just college."

"Oh, yeah, I heard something. How is it going for you?" Kyle asked.

"Not bad. Oh, I'm gonna ask my parents if I can join you. Do you mind?"

"Not at all, go ahead."

"Butters!

"Hey there!"

"Shit..." Stan whispered.

He didn't mind coming across Butters but her...

Wendy seemed as upset as he was. Gosh, she looked pretty in that dress and with her head cut. Maybe Bebe, Lola and Red looked hotter, but it was her the one he had his eyes fixed on.

"Oh, hi, boys."

"Hi, Wendy." Kyle greeted her.

Stan didn't open his mouth. Not wanting to have an awkward moment, he grabbed his cell phone and walked away with it pressed against his ear, pretending he was talking to someone. He didn't fool anybody, that's why Wendy blushed while the other girls snickered.

"Uhm, glad to see you." Wendy darted away, not waiting for any of her friends.

Stan came back shortly after they were gone with the phone in his hand.

"It was...my dad."

He received the most uncomfortable stares.

"Sure. Your dad." Cartman rolled his eyes.

"Yeah."

"Now seriously, what happened between you and Wendy? You're back at your old stupid 'I love you-I hate you' games?"

Stan sighed through his nose. "I don't want to talk about it."

Cartman raised his hands and continued walking. Butters soon ran to join them ("it was hard, but my dad says I can, as long was I don't go back home late and I don't get drunk.")

Not only Kenny, but Cartman and Stan also ordered alcohol. Kyle and Butters prefered soda. They had a peaceful time, just talking, getting up-to-date. Kyle was fed up with his mother, but he still had to know if he got that indefinite contract before thinking about moving to live on his own. Cartman still thought she was a big, bad bitch; he would have rather gone live under a bridge, was he in Kyle's situation. Butters was also living with his parents but it wasn't that bad. They had told him that college was first, then, he could think of independence; there was no rush. And the career was tough but he was doing well, something useful to society. Stan and Kenny were silent all the time, while Cartman interrupted all the time with his own opinion or to tell an anecdote related to the subject. Of course, he bragged again about his successful business, but the gang still had no idea what his enterprise was about.

Once they finished their drinks they had nothing else to do but try the attractions. They got in the line of the one they found with the shortest queue. There were only two people there, and they were two guys they knew: Tweek and Craig.

"Hey, guys."

"Ah. Hey there."

They didn't pay much attention to each other. Tweek seemed to be having an intense conversation with Craig, and couldn't stop touching the iron ring around his middle finger.

"Wow, man you're a lu-lu-lucky bastard!"

"Mm? Oh, hey!" Butters waved an arm to somebody. The gang saw that it was Clyde, Token, Timmy and Jimmy.

Token was almost hidden behind a gigantic plush unicorn, so it was a surprise to see him growing a moustache. And what was that on Timmy's right arm? A tattoo? It was still wrapped. Goodness, and they had seen each other just a couple of weeks before!

"Timmy!" Timmy nodded at them.

"Wow, all of South Park is here tonight!" Clyde raised his eyebrows. And it seemed there was more and more people around as minutes passed. The fair was a success, it seemed. "What's up, guys?"

"Not much. What about you?"

"This mo-motherfucker here's been killing the g-games." Jimmy pointed at Token.

"What's this ride about?" Token looked at the attraction with interest—the part that the enormous prize allowed him to see.

"I don't know but it doesn't look too bad and the rest seem crowded." Kyle shrugged.

"What do you say, guys? Shall we try?" Token asked his partners.

"Timmy!" Timmy nodded.

"Yeah, okay, why not." Clyde accepted too.

So they got in line too.

Scott munched and then swallowed the fries he had in his hand.

"Did something happen between you and Stan?"

Wendy's look and the way the other girls laughed made Scott regret asking that.

"Uh, sorry."

"No, no, it's okay. It's just that...there are times when people think they are adults but still act like a ten-year old." Wendy replied, her nostrils wide open when she took air to speak, her lips pressed. She grabbed a fry from him without permission.

"It's okay, Scott, we are lost too." Bebe told him.

"Really, Wendy, it couldn't be that bad." Lola smirked.

"Believe me, it's going to get worse. Hold my purse, please. Scott, come with me."

Before the poor guy could say anything, Wendy was dragging him to the line of that free fall ride. She wasn't interested in the attractions, but that was where Stan was.

"Hello, guys!" Wendy made sure everyone knew they were there.

"Oh, hi, Wendy. Hi, Scott." Jimmy greeted them.

"What's up?" Clyde asked.

Cartman elbowed Stan, although he had already seen her. As soon as their eyes met, Wendy grabbed Scott and pulled him towards her to kiss him. His screams were muffled by her lips.

Stan felf that temperature was rising. He quickly resorted again to his cell phone to check some non-existent messages, in an attempt to seem distracted.

"Wh-?" Scott looked at Wendy with surprise.

"Sorry." Wendy kept looking a Stan. He had turned his back on her and was checking his phone. Great! He was hurt as hell!

"I...didn't know you guys were dating." Token commented.

"Well, yeah, me...neither..." Scott scratched the back of his head.

"We started dating not long ago." Wendy replied. She couldn't hide a smile of satisfaction, which her friends saw perfectly.

"What a bitch." Red smirked.

"Well, congrats. But, you know, I always thought you and Stan-" where did Cartman come from? Wendy was not glad to see him around.

"Get lost, Cartman, this is none of your business."

"Ah, your fault. You shouldn't have kissed in front of everybody."

When he realized, Cartman was the last in the line. His friends hadn't saved him a seat, but he hoped there was still a spot somewhere. However, the carny, a fat woman who was wearing too little clothes for everyone's taste, stopped him.

"You'll have to wait for the next turn."

"Fuck dammit..." Cartman muttered.

"Hey, Cartman, if you're going to stay there hold this, please." Token ran to give him the big plush.

"And my jacket too!" Tweek threw his striped jacket at his head.

"Mine too, pretty please?" Butter's fell at his feet.

"Take care of my cr-crutches, Eric, please, thanks!" Jimmy's crutches were also handed to him.

"Timmy!" And Timmy's wheelchair too, while its owner was sat by Clyde and Scott, grabbing him by his legs and underarms.

Cartman muttered something about everyone's mothers. Not wanting to be a clothes rack, he just left everthing on Timmy's chair and crossed his arms while another carny, a man with a grey beard, checked everyone's belts. The platform elevated as an awful but popular trap song started playing.

Cartman turned to Wendy's friends.

"Hey, there."

The girls muttered a 'hello' or just gave him a head nod. Cartman continued to wait, glancing at the hour in this cellphone. What was that smell? It smelt as if something was burning, some wire. It was awful, he would move away if it didn't stop, screw those people and their junk.

Someone stopped by his side shortly after. It was Ike, who was recording himself with this phone before placing it into his pocket. He was holding a big strawberry milkshake with a dognut on top.

"I wanna go home now."

Cartman didn't reply, because he didn't care.

"They left you out 'cause you're a fatass, right?"

"Screw you."

Silence. The guys seemed to be having a good time, going up and down in that thing.

Then, Ike leaned forward, squinting.

"Are those sparks normal?"

"...What?"

Cartman turned his head towards the ride just in time to see the explosion. The ride stopping mid-fall. The convulsions.

People started to scream.

"OH, MY GOD!"

"STOP IT! STOP IT!"

"SOMEONE DO SOMETHING!"

Ike dropped his milkshake, horrified. Cartman couldn't help exclaiming: "Ssssshit!"

* * *

 **Most of the designs for the grown-up kids are heavily influenced by _thehauntedartist_ 's (Tumblr)**


	2. Waking up

"Accident at the fair! Twelve youngsters have been electrocuted due to a ride malfunction tonight at the South Park summer fair! Here with a special report is a midget in a bikini."

"I'm here at the scene of the accident, Tom; as you can see the Police has shut the attraction down and its owners are being arrested for an alledged criminal negligence. One of the victims is dead and the others remain in critical condition. They have been taken to the hospital, where they are doing everything possible to save their lives."

* * *

 _"Quick! We can still stabilize him!"_

He was lying on his back, his arms at his sides. He couldn't open his eyes or move a single muscle. All he could do was listen, feel the movement. He could have sworn he was feeling a certain pumping inside his skull: his heartbeats. There was people around him. He heard them talk about him, about how grim he looked. He didn't ask himself any questions. He couldn't think at all. Relax. Don't worry about anything.

He drifted into the emptiness again.

When he opened his eyes again, Tweek was now in a more comfortable place, a bed. Sunlight entered the room through an open window; it had to be almost midday. That light hurt Tweek's eyes, he had to blink for a long while until he was able to see a thing. The first he saw was his mother looking at him from the armchair by his side.

"Tweek, honey!" she exclaimed, getting up to kiss his face.

Tweek was unable to say anything for a while, his throat felt terribly dry. In this time, his father walked into the room with a couple of mugs of the family coffee in his hands.

"Son! Thank God!"

"Dad? Mom?" his voice sounded raspy. "...What happened?"

"Don't you remember?" his father asked.

"I'm going to tell the doctor." Mrs. Tweak ran out of the room.

"Sit down, you're still in no condition to..."

"Dad, what happened?"

"There was something wrong with the ride." Mr. Tweak left the coffee on the table and sat on the bed by his son. "A wire, an engine...they haven't found out yet, but something didn't work as it was supposed to, and all of you..."

Tweek started to remember. That sudden pain, then nothing. He muttered a curse, touching his chest, as if he wanted to make sure that his heartbeats were no illusion.

"We talked, the families. We are suing those people all together. You almost die, all of you—Kenny did."

"Kenny? Kenny McCormick? He died?"

"Yes. They couldn't revive him."

Tweek ran a hand through his hair, which was wet with sweat. Kenny was dead?

"It looked perfectly well, we didn't think there was something wrong with...Wait! Craig! Where is he?! Is he alright?!"

"Easy, easy! Don't get up! I saw his parents just a while ago, he's still unconscious but is out of danger."

"A-Are you sure? I have to see him, I-I have to-!" Tweek had to be pushed back to the bed by his father.

"No, no, no, Tweek, don't move, the doctor is here." Mrs. Tweak was at the door with a black woman who was wearing the hospital uniform.

"Well, you look fine for someone who's received a 11,000 volt shock." the doctor approached to examine him.

Tweek let her touch him and check everything she needed. His eyes looked down at his middle finger. There was now no ring but an ugly mark reflected it had been once. Where was it? That was one more reason to feel anxious.

"I have to see Craig. I have to see everyone. Did you see my ring? Where is my ring? Craig gave it to me."

"Don't worry about that now, Tweek. I have the ring, I'll give it to you once you leave the hospital, I promise." Mrs. Tweak told him.

"Relax, son, it's just a ring." Mr. Tweak said.

"It's my engagement ring..."

Tweek had muttered those words, but Mr. Tweak had heard them perfectly and needed a bit of time to process them.

"...What?"

"All the others are still unconscious, you are the first to wake up." the doctor told Tweek.

Tweek had to breath deeply in order to calm himself down. He REALLY needed an espresso or five, but it was rather unlikely that they would allow him to drink coffee in such state.

"Can I walk around? Or just move a little bit?"

The doctor accepted, as long as he didn't force himself—his condition was still delicate. At least, that was what she said: Tweek felt perfectly fine. It almost seemed impossible that hours ago he was fighting for his life. If he wanted to walk for a while, it was because that room overwhelmed him, and because he wanted to check on his friends.

His mother held him by an arm while he walked through the corridor. Unfortunately, he couldn't see his friends and boyfriend, but he did see their families.

Mr. Donovan was wandering like a ghost in search of a coffee machine; they passed by his side, Tweek's mother offered him a cup of their own coffee and he didn't seem to notice. Mrs. Tweak later explained to Tweek that the poor man had suffered a nervous breakdown upon seeing his son half-dead, exclaiming that he couldn't lose him too. Mrs. Tweak told this with a lump in her throat, because, at the moment, all the parents were completely devastated, they had heard that one of the boys had died and they didn't know if it was their child or if they would be the next. They also found Timmy's mother and father and they did see them, but barely reacted. A social worker was with them. They needed help understanding what had happened to their son and what to do.

"Tweek," Mr. Black and his wife came to their encounter, "you're awake. I'm so glad."

"Thanks, Mr. Black." Tweek replied. "How's Token?"

"He's alright. He's...got third degree injuries from the electrocution, but he's alive, thank Jesus. He's resting, he's resting now." Mrs. Black sighed. She looked extremely tired, her eyes swollen from crying, probably.

Tweek unconsciously leaned his body towards the open door of the room where Token rested. He couldn't see him, there was a folding screen in the way. Anyway, he wasn't sure if he wanted to see Token in whatever state he was. His eyes then wandered around. In which of those rooms was Craig? Was he really alright? He wouldn't believe it until he saw him with his own eyes and talked to him. It was his fault, he was the one who suggested that ride. Gosh, he had never needed a cup of coffee more than in that moment.

"How have you been? We haven't seen you since the boys graduated."

Mr. Black was interrupted by Tweek's sudden gasp. They turned around and the surprise was general.

The person who was walking very slowly in their direction was no other than Kenny McCormick, flanked by his sister Karen. His parents were not with him but could be heard.

"WHAT KIND OF SHITTY HOLE IS THIS?! WHAT KIND OF ASSHOLES CAN'T TELL WHEN A PERSON IS DEAD OR ALIVE?!" Stuart was shouting to a doctor who had his hands up in an attempt to calm him down, but Stuart was too close.

"Please...The EMT certified that your son was dead, there was no pulse, no reaction, the wounds were very severe. They tried to revive him for thirty minutes and..."

"THEN WHY IS HE WALKING?! HEH?! WHY IS HE UP AND ALIVE?! WHY IS HE PERFECTLY FINE?! YOU ALMOST CUT MY FUCKING BABY OPEN!" Carol was behind the poor man, her teeth gritted in pure rage.

"Lady, I am not the one who-"

"OF COURSE, NO ONE WANTS TO TAKE THE RESPONSIBILITY! YOU FUCKED UP AND YOU'RE GOING TO PAY! YOU TOLD US OUR CHILD WAS DEAD!"

"K-Kenny!"

Kenny noticed his old classmate and walked to his encounter.

"No, Kenny, don't go so fast." Karen tried to slow him down.

"It's alright, don't worry." Kenny told her. "Tweek! Are you alright?"

"Well, no, I'm anxious as fuck right now. I-I...I can't believe you're alive! They told me you were dead!"

"They thought I was dead. I woke up in the freaking table, they were about to do the autopsy to me."

"Jesus!"

"The Lord was with you, Kenneth." Mr. Black.

"Certainly. We're glad to see you so well." Mrs. Black nodded. "Look at you! You look as if nothing had happened to you."

Tweek stared at Kenny and saw that Token's mom was not wrong.

Yes, it was...kind of freaky, when he thought about it. He should have been showing at least some marks. Such an electrocution had to leave severe burns. But Kenny had none. He looked fine. Also...when he saw him, that night...He remembered that he didn't look well, with a bruise in his face. Now, that bruise had disappeared. He looked pale but alright.

"You know...about the others?" Kenny asked him.

"They seem to be alive, at least. I don't know much..."

"I'll go check on Stan and Kyle. They have to be around here."

"Mom?" Tweek looked at his mother.

"Well, alright, you can go. But don't stay away for too long, the doctors have to check on you."

The three youngsters left the adult talk and crossed that long corridor, looking for their friends. Stucking their heads into some of the rooms, they found Jimmy with his eyes closed, resting in his bed. Seeing that jester lying as if he was dead made Tweek feel the most unpleasant weight in his stomach. On the other hand, they found Wendy awake, being examined by a doctor. Since she seemed to be very disoriented, they decided to come in later. They were glad that another one had recovered consciousness.

In the end, they found Ike Broflovski standing in front of a vending machine with some coins in his hand. He seemed not to be paying much attention to the items he could buy, but just staring into space.

"Ike." Kenny called him.

Ike blinked, turning his head to them very slowly.

"Kenny...But I saw how they put a blanket on you..."

"Well...They made a mistake. How's Kyle?"

"...He's okay. Not fine, but okay. He's not woken up yet."

"Maybe you should go home. Both of you should go home." Kenny looked at Karen too.

"No way. I'm not leaving him." Ike replied. Karen also shook her head.

"Come on, your parents are here to take care of him." Tweek helped Kenny convince him.

"I want to stay here too..."

They didn't insist.

"You want to see him?"

"Sure."

As they walked, and since Kenny evidently didn't need help, Karen approached Ike to talk to him. The poor guy looked terribly tired and worried, as she had been when her parents were drinking their asses off in front of the TV and their program was interrupted by those terrible news, and they immediately drove to the hospital praying to all divinities for Kenny to be safe.

Kenny also approached Tweek to speak to him in low voice.

"I shouldn't be alive now."

"Don't say that. You've-"

"No, no. You don't understand. I shouldn't be alive. You neither. People die from stuff like this, you know that?"

"I don't know, maybe we were lucky, this stuff happens."

Kenny looked away. "I don't believe in luck."

Tweek fell silent, but his head started to hurt from thinking that Kenny...was right. He shouldn't have woken up so soon. He shouldn't have woken up at all. He forgot to look at himself in the mirror and see if he had any scars from the electrocution. The doctor had mentioned nothing about it.


	3. Scars

Cartman pulled the collar of Stan's shirt to see his burnt neck.

"It doesn't look that bad. I can't even see the bone."

"It's still a third degree burn. Believe me, it hurts as hell." Stan replied. "Don't touch it!"

"How come you don't have any?" Cartman turned his head towards Kenny.

The blond, walking with his hands inside his pockets, did not open his mouth. He just shrugged quickly and looked up at the cloudless sky. A warm wind blew; it would have been much better if it had been cooler.

"I'd sue the hell of out them if I were you."

"Our parents are taking care of that already." Kyle mentioned.

"I'm very thankful to be alive." Stan nodded.

"Me too." Kyle agreed, and Kenny nodded.

"Yeah. You're a bunch of lucky mofos. When I saw you shaking like this and then lying on the ground, I thought I'd have to buy wreath in bulk."

"I would have never thought you'd care so much about us." Kyle smirked.

Their conversation was briefly interrupted by an ominous apparition. Sat in the shade of a tree by Henrietta's house, the four goths seemed to be doing nothing but smoke and sweat (who else would be stupid enough to wear those black outfits in summer?), yet, when the four boys appeared, their eyes followed them. There was something not very nice about the way they looked at them. Stan had the feeling that they were looking at him specially. They completely looked like ravens, some kind of black, predator birds ready to pounce. Stan, Kenny, Kyle and Cartman couldn't help feeling extremely relieved when they left them behind.

"There you got four guys who would have been pretty happy to bury you." Cartman pointed at them with a movement of his head.

"And you dated _her_ in high school?" Kyle had always wanted to ask this to Kenny.

"Uh-uh! I didn't exactly _date_ her! We just made out! And I did it with a lot of girls! It was a party! Token's party, remember? It's just that...the lights were out. We all did crazy things that night." Kenny defended himself.

"Oh, yeah, I remember."

"When Token's parents came and found you in their bed with Sophie Jones." Stan remembered.

"Token's parents saw a lot of shit that night." Kenny nodded.

"Now that was a party." Cartman grinned. "Yeah, you were giving girls syphilis and shit, Kyle and I were drinking from the bottle...Guess that's why he's a PRO member now."

Kyle punched Cartman's arm with a little smile, although he didn't find funny what he did at that party—he was right, after what happened, he had taken the determination of never tasting alcohol again.

"...Stan was getting handsy with Wendy, Timmy had the b-Ouch!"

Kyle punched Cartman again, then pointed at Stan discreetly. How upset he looked, his good mood dropping.

"Look, Stan, we can't help you until you tell us what happened exactly!" Cartman complained to him.

"I don't want to talk about it. Sorry, guys." Stan replied.

Kenny frowned at Cartman. Now that they were starting to have a nice time together, he had to ruin everything with his big mouth.

"I earned three hundred dollars the other night," he said, "let's go get something to eat. I'll pay."

"It was about time you paid some time." Cartman smirked. Well, now he knew that they didn't break his face for nothing.

* * *

Ouch...It looked pretty bad...Were those treatments prescribed at the hospital really working? Would he have those scars for the rest of his life?

Butters couldn't stand looking at himself in the mirror in his underwear. He didn't like those marks at all. He wanted no reminders of that horrible night in which he almost died. He sometimes wished he had never come across the gang.

Mr. Stotch came into the bathroom without knocking at the door first. As always, since Butters reach that age in which many boys started to smoke and consume drugs.

"Don't touch the tissues."

"No, dad. I didn't touch them."

"You'd better not. You don't want it to get infected, do you?"

"Of course not."

Mr. Stotch sighed, looking at himself in the mirror too, to see the white hairs that were spreading all over his hair.

"Didn't you see that the attraction was in a bad state?" Butters started to tremble. The time of worry was over. He was back at home. There was no escape.

"No, of course I didn't. None of us thought there could be something wrong with it."

"You didn't get some kind of burnt smell? Didn't you see if it moved weirdly?"

"No. I was talking to my friends, I didn't..."

"You could have died. You should have been more cautious."

"Yeah..."

"I hope this serves as a lesson for you."

"Yes, I will never lay a foot on an attraction."

"Good. Also, I'm not sure if those friends of you are very convenient. I can understand that you didn't notice but them? I'm thinking..." Mr. Stotch looked at his son, " that South Park is full of irresponsible people. I couldn't complain when you were a child because you had to socialize and there wasn't much to choose, but now that you are in college and can meet better people from outside, I don't think you should hang out with your old classmates."

"What's so bad about them?"

"Where do I begin with?" Was all Mr. Stotch said before leaving the bathroom to see if lunch was ready.

Butters sighed once he knew his father couldn't hear him. Of course he wouldn't want him to hang out with the old gang. After what happened...It was a pity, because he honestly liked them, all of them, even if they drank alcohol, had a very long amorous and criminal record, or never thought of getting higher education. But he didn't want to upset his father.

Good thing that summer holidays wouldn't last forever and then...then he would go back to college and focus on his studies. Just his studies.

* * *

Wendy had called Scott to meet her at her house at a time when there was no one else at home. When Scott finally rang, she breathed deeply and opened the door feeling ridiculously nervous. She didn't know why she was.

"Hi, Wendy."

"Hi, Scott, come in."

Scott stood there, looking quite uneasy. His body was bandaged, just like Wendy's. The part which had been in contact with the metal of the ride had been affected and probably would never look good again.

"Uh...Sit down."

"I'd rather not. The burns still hurt."

"Oh, alright...Do you want a snack or something?"

"Uhm, do you have fruit juice or something like that?"

"Let me check." Wendy walked to the fridge and came back shortly after with a bottle in her hands.

"We have orange juice. Don't worry, my mom's on a diet, so nothing in my fridge has sugar."

"Ah, perfect. Thank you so much."

They remained in silence, and it wasn't nice. The more time passed, the more awkward the two of them felt.

"So..." Scott tried to help her speak.

Wendy licked her lips.

"I'm really sorry about what happened to you. Dragging you to the ride of death..."

"You don't have to apologize, you couldn't know."

"Yeah, but...I'd like to apologize too about the kiss..."

"Now that's a different thing." Scott caressed the glass, raising his eyebrows.

"I guess you deserve to know what this is all about."

"Yep, it would be nice from you. And I'm dying to know what happened between you and Stan. I don't know, you seemed to be so well..."

"Yeah, I thought so too...That's why I asked him to move together."

"Oh...When?"

"Three months ago. We've been together since...I don't know when. It seemed like this time was going to be the definitive. I thought this time we were able to communicate, and nothing would go wrong..."

"And what did Stan say when you asked him?"

"...He said no."

"He said no? Why?"

"He didn't even tell me why. No matter how much I tried, he didn't even give me a reason. After that, he started ghosting. He never answered to my messages, and whenever our paths crossed, he tried to escape..."

Scott didn't reply. His face showed that he found that attitude extremely unpleasant.

"...And I don't know what I did wrong. Or if he has something against the idea. If he had, we could have talked about it, but...this? What's the point of all of this? I just...can't understand, and it hurts so much, because I think the real problem is me and..."

"Wendy..."

"Yes, of course, I'm not the problem. **He** is the problem. That was so fucked up and immature. And maybe I should be glad that this happened before-"

"Wendy...Are you...sure...the juice was sugar-free?"

Wendy fell silent. Scott wasn't affected by what she was telling him. He was having an attack.

She ran the fastest she had ever ran in her life to check the bottle. The label didn't say that it was sugar free, but that it contained 8% less sugar. SHIT!

"Oh, nonononononono! Scott! Scott, I'm so sorry! Y-You brought your insulin, right?!"

Scott nodded weakly and slid a hand inside of his pocket to grab it.

But the medicine sipped from his fingers. His hand touched his chest.

"I'm calling an ambulance, hold on!"

Wendy tried to grab her phone but her hands were trembling. What the hell was she thinking about when she read the label?!

Suddenly, when she looked at Scott again, her hands went rigid and the phone definitely fell to the floor. When he got closer, she drew back, tangling her feet and falling too. Too shocked to get up, scream or do something, she could just watch how Scott's muscles tensed, the seams of his shirt busted, his grunts deepened, unable to call anybody or even ask what the hell was going on.


	4. Freaking out: Round 1

Scott...barely looked like himself now. He always was the chubby kind, his round face and the freckles that didn't leave after puberty made him look soft, tender, almost childish. What was standing in front of Wendy was none of those. The volume of his muscles increased, they increased so much that his shirt wasn't able to contain them and ripped. His legs seemed much thicker too, his shorts were so tight that it had to be really uncomfortable to wear them; a single movement would burst them. His face also looked different. His eyes were wide open with an expression that made Wendy shiver. His mouth was open, breathing heavily, showing his teeth. The skin had turned quite red.

Wendy got to get up but she couldn't move any more. Her body didn't respond to the sensible instructions her brain gave it.

What did just happen to Scott? What kind of diabetic reaction was that? Did...he remember who she was?

She needed to call someone, but she was unable to reach her phone. Scott was coming closer, cornering her. It was a dreadful sensation, having those mad eyes on her. He was getting closer and closer. His steps were heavy.

 _"Oh, goodness, somebody please help!"_

* * *

Jimmy's phone vibrated but he didn't pay attention to it because Loretta was squirming in the most delicious way and he felt he was going to cum. Nor did Heidi, who was in the most interesting part of the book and didn't want to get distracted, or Theresa, because she was taking a shower.

Stan did hear it and checked that notification. When he saw who it was from, he decided to put his phone back to his pocket and make an effort to focus on what Kyle was saying and cut those old, painful thoughts about the convenience of blocking her. Not now, he repeated to himself, not now. Bebe did read the message, but raised an eyebrow before texting back: "What is it?". Was that a joke? Until Wendy replied, she kept watching the television.

Token read the message and felt worried.

[Somebody please help!]

What? Was something happening to Wendy? He too wrote back to her, asking her if something was wrong. He waited, feeling nervous, walking around the kitchen. She didn't reply. Well, if something was indeed happening, she wouldn't be able to respond, right? Maybe someone was following her in the street, or there was an accident...She didn't add any more information.

Okay, that was very worrying. Wendy would never make a joke like that. He had to go to her house and see what was happening. Or call the police. She could have had a car accident somewhere. He had to find out where she was. He had to see her now, just to be sure she was alright.

Suddenly, there was a glow. When Token realized, he was not in his house anymore. It was...

"T-Token? Token!"

Token jumped backwards. Wendy was pressed against the wall by the burliest guy Token had ever seen.

"Wendy!"

He ran towards him to punch him and try to release Wendy. Of course, he should have known that this man was far stronger than him, and his fists were like cotton kisses to him. The man turned to look at him. He was going to crush him with his bare hands. Yep, he had screwed up.

"The insulin! The insulin!" Wendy cried.

What insulin? Wendy pointed at the floor and Token's gaze followed. There he saw it, a syringe. Before the other could move, Token ran to grab it and injected it into the man's exposed waist with little delicacy.

The result was almost immediate. The grip was gradually weaker, and Wendy had the chance to push her attacker to the sofa, where he fell. Before their very eyes, his muscles deflated, his face adopted a more tired expresion, his anger vanishing, until Scott was back to his old, chubby self.

Token couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"...S-Scott?" he didn't dare to approach, even if Wendy remained by his side, holding his hand.

"Are you alright, Scott?" Wendy asked him.

The other didn't respond. He touched his chest and felt that his heart was still racing. He looked so scared, confused and weak that it was hard not to feel pity for him.

"What kind of diabetic attack was that?" Wendy muttered.

"I've...I've never had one like this..." Scott whined. "It was...Oh! Oh, no! I'm a monster! Diabetes has made me a monster! Tell me I didn't pass it on you when we kissed! You'd-!"

"No, Scott, diabetes can't be transmitted by kissing." Wendy calmed him down. "It's okay, don't move. I..." She turned to Token. "I'm not sure what happened here..."

"Well, you sure scared me to death..." Token puffed, his hands on his hips.

"So good you came in time..." Scott said. He didn't want to hurt Wendy, but something, maybe desperation, terror, made him grab her. He was so sorry he scared her and Token. He was still horrified himself. He was a monster.

"How did you find us?" Wendy asked. Although she thought that maybe he was around, heard the noise and forced the door.

"I read your text and...well...I...don't know how I came here actually. I didn't even have time to go get the car or..." Token was starting to feel really confused too.

"Text? What text?"

"What text? The one you sent me, asking for help. This text."

Token showed the message to her. To his surprise, Wendy seemed to be astonished by it.

It was her number, her profile picture. But she was pretty sure she hadn't sent that message to Token. It was impossible.

"But I didn't write it."

"Come on."

"I swear! I dropped my phone! See? There it is! I couldn't reach it and call emergencies!"

"Who did then? Scott couldn't..."

"I think..." Scott muttered. "There are a few things here that need some explaining..."

* * *

[Somebody please help!]

Craig raised an eyebrow and ignored that text.

"Bye."

"Wait a moment, Craig."

Craig sighed and turned around to look at his father. He hoped it was quick, whatever he had to say: he would be late.

"Richard and I talked while you guys were at the hospital. What's that thing about an engagement ring?"

Ah, fine. It wouldn't.

Craig stood right where he had stopped with his arms crossed.

"Tweek and I've been talking. We want to get married."

"What? Now?"

"Yeah, as soon as we get a stable job and stuff."

"But...Laura!"

Mrs. Tucker came down the stairs.

"Your son says he's engaged!"

"What? What?! When did you plan to tell us!" Laura approached.

"I don't know. One of these days." Craig shrugged.

"One of these days!" Mr. Tucker exclaimed. "Craig, we are your parents!"

"I know, we were going to tell you! Eventually."

"But have you thought it over? You are only twenty-one!" Mrs. Tucker complained.

"There's lots of people who married at our age, or even younger. Believe me, we've been talking about it since we were eighteen. We are waiting for the right moment, we're not going to do something crazy."

"Are you sure about it? Like, completely sure?"

"Yep."

Mr. and Mrs. Tucker looked at each other.

"Can I go now? I'm gonna be late."

"Uh, yes, you can go. But this conversation isn't over."

Craig left, not saying a single word. He left his parents silent and confused. Mr. Tucker sat at the dining table.

"Married..."

"Yes, I know, dear..." Mrs. Tucker placed her hands on her husband's shoulders.

"Our son could become Craig Tweak soon..."

"Or Tweek Tucker."

"...Right..."

* * *

"I've never wanted the Earth to swallow me more than in that moment..."

Timmy sipped his iced mocha from a straw. Although he was looking at the cup, Tweek knew he was listening to him. Or not. Anyway, he needed to let it all out of his chest.

"I know this isn't one of those conventional engagement rings, but it's a promise we made to each other. We've been together for eleven years, we know each other, we trust each other, so we said, why not taking the big step? I mean, I'd love to wake up every morning and see Craig's face."

Timmy nodded. Or was that just one of his spasms?

"My parents say we are too young, but I don't think so. I mean, when you love a person, when you are sure about it, what else do you want? I guess the problem is that they want me to take care of the shop and they don't want me to go work somewhere else and..."

Yes, Timmy was listening. He had a smile on his face while looking at him.

"Sorry. I'm nervous as fuck. Please don't tell anybody about this."

Timmy made the gesture of zipping his lips and throwing the pull tab away.

"Thanks, man. I'm glad you're okay after..." Tweek didn't continue. He just cleared his throat.

"Timmy." Timmy replied, waving his hand dismissively. "Timmy."

"Is it...normal that it looks that way? I don't mean to scare you but..." Tweek couldn't resist looking at Timmy's burnt hands. He held one carefully. As if he didn't have enough limitations, he now had be assisted in the most simple actions, such as holding objects.

"Timmy." Timmy nodded.

"And that night was being so fun. Just to think that all of us could have-"

Tweek seemed to have frozen. Timmy stared at him with his eyebrows raised. Then, he waved a hand to him. Tweek didn't react, so Timmy looked at what he was staring. It was his hand. It was glowing with a cold light. Tweek quickly removed his hand, and Timmy looked at his.

He raised it, to see it better. It was completely fine. As if he had never been burnt.

"...WHAT DID JUST-Mphf!"

The whole coffee shop was looking at them. Tweek's father said something to him, but Tweek was freaking out too much to notice. For Timmy's taste, he was freaking out too much. Quickly, he put his wheelchair to work, grabbing Tweek's arm and dragging him to the employees only room.

"Where are you going, boys?" Mrs. Tweak asked her son.

Tweek couldn't reply, so Timmy did. "Timmy!" he lied to her, and closed the door behind him.

Mrs. Tweak just shrugged. She didn't want to admit that she had never been able to understand that boy.

"Hello, Mrs. Tweak."

"Ah, Craig! Hi, Tweek's in the room with Timmy."

Out from the sight of his parents and the customers, Tweek was free to run around and get hysterical.

"What did just happen?! Your hand! Have you seen your hand?! Did I do that?! What the hell is going on?!"

When Craig came in, he found his fiancé in such a state that he looked at Timmy looking for an explanation. The handicapped showed him his hand, but he didn't know how that was related to the subject, so he held Tweek by the shoulders.

"Tweek. Tweek. Calm down. Tweek."

"You didn't see it, man! His hand glowed! His hand fucking glowed in front of me and his scars! They are gone! Gone! I don't know what happened but it's so weird! I don't like it! I don't understand!"

"Tweek."

"WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!"

He didn't listen, so Craig had to recur to more drastic measures. He slapped Tweek in the cheek, hoping that it would calm him down. He did fall silent, and next he punched him back. Craig was about to respond but it was okay, at least he shut up.

"Okay...Okay." Craig spoke slowly, hoping that Tweek would imitate him. "Tell me what happened."

 _["Something very interesting happened."]_

Craig and Tweek slowly turned towards Timmy. Timmy glanced at them both. He still didn't move his lips when he added:

 _["...But I think the best word to describe it is 'freaky'..."]_


	5. Freaking out: Round 2

"Hmmm...No, that's not right..."

Jimmy had the monologue in a few days. He was more than glad that the accident, his stay at the hospital and the recovery did not affect his plans. It was a chance that one simply couldn't refuse, the result of years of hard work. But, as if the electrocution had lit a lightbulb inside of his head, he reviewed what he had planned and found it awful. Like, what was he thinking about when he wrote it? It was as if he had conceived it in the toilet.

Thus, it was time to write something new. And it was being difficult. His muses were very good at pointing out the flaws in his script but were of no help when it came to rewriting it. What a bunch of bitches.

Speaking of bitches, Classi had called him because she needed his help. Something about a guy who had been mean to her at work. Not that she needed Jimmy to give that man a lesson, but there was a problem with her pipes and needed someone to take a little look, just to see if there was something she could do before calling a plumber, while she looked for that asshole to run him over with her car. Jimmy was glad to oblige.

Waiting for the bus with his notebook on his lap, Jimmy went over the new monologue—although the best way to describe what he was doing was that he was fighting against that stupid dough he had for a brain.

He was so focused on it that he noticed the bus when it was already closing its doors.

"Hey! Hey, wait!"

As fast as he could, he stood up, the notebook falling to the floor. He had to grab it, his backpack too, and the crutches, and with all of that in hand, he ran to catch the bus before it left. But it seemed that the bus driver was not listening, or perhaps he did notice but was in a bad mood, because the bus started moving.

"No! No! STOP!"

He waved his hand, but it was useless, and he couldn't run and do that at the same time. The bus was gaining speed. He couldn't lose it: the next bus would come in an hour.

Dammit, he was dropping everything. But he wasn't losing that fucking bus!

As fast as he could, he took his pencil and phone charger from the ground and ran as much as his legs and arms allowed him to.

At first, he was proud of him catching up with the bus. Then, he realized he was going too fast. The bus was now behind him.

But he couldn't stop. He was going faster and faster. His body seemed to have a will of its own, because he told his brain to stop and his legs and crutches were still moving. Jimmy turned his head and saw that the bus was far away.

 _Blam!_

Direct orders from his brain didn't stop his limbs but a car did. Jimmy fell backwards and there he stayed, feeling like his stomach had turned into pâté. A woman got out of the car and walked to him.

"Oh, my God, are you okay?"

"Uhhh..." was all Jimmy could say.

"What happened? Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

"No, it's... _ungh_...Okay..." Jimmy tried to stand up. The woman ran to grab his crutches and help him.

"Are you sure you are alright?"

"Yes, don't worry...Oh...Your car..."

It looked pretty bad, but the driver was more worried about Jimmy.

"You have to be more careful!"

"Yeah, I know, I..."

The woman looked at the dent in the body of his car. And she had been so careful not to scratch it, taking care of it as if it was a baby! Her husband would be furious.

"How on Earth did you do this?"

Jimmy didn't know what to say. That bump...it had been a mighty good hit. It almost seemed incredible that he hadn't broken any bone. That was a good question indeed, how had he done that?

He looked around and saw that South Park was a mile behind him.

* * *

The doctor had told him to take it easy in order to help the recovery, but Clyde had trouble keeping his promise. After revising his recipes, he had so little to do. So he took the determination of calling his friends and go out, have some fun. He supposed enough time had passed for them to feel better. He hadn't seen them in a long while and wanted to know if they were alright and ask them how they dealt with the convalescence.

His first choice was Craig, but he never answered the phone. Token did, but he refused.

"Sorry, man, I...can't. At this moment I have...uhm...Sorry, I can't." And hanged up, leaving Clyde disappointed but also a little worried, because Token didn't give him the chance to ask if something was wrong.

What about Kyle?

"Okay, see you at the park"

Well, fine, at least now he had a plan for the afternoon.

Leaving his phone on the bed, he raised an arm and approached his nose to his armpit. He drew back while letting out a grunt. Yes, he needed a shower first.

As he got undressed, he began to think. The times when him, Token, Craig, Kyle, everyone, all of them hanged out together practically all the time. In and outside of school. There was no need to call in advance to know if the other was free, one just had to knock at the door and ask their parents if they were there. They did so much mischief...He turned on the tap and the water got his smiling lips wet. The good old times, when their worries were innocent, stupid in a way. He treasured the memories about their games. The stick of truth, which was just a simple stick, castles and dragons made of cardboard, cheap costumes, disputes about an attack counting or not.

None of them played anymore. They had their partners, their jobs. Responsibilities. He had his. It couldn't be helped. It was part of growing up.

Clyde looked down at his legs and rubbed them vigorously with his sponge. Little remained of the boy he was then. His testicles started to grow, followed by his penis, when he was eleven, until he was sixteen. Hair started to sprout in his whole body, including his face, when he was fourteen. His voice definitely deepened, after years of awkward ups and downs, at the age of sixteen. That lump in his back...

...Huh?

Clyde reached his back. There was something there that shouldn't have been.

"Ah-AAAAAAH!"

"Clyde?"

Clyde gasped and opened the curtain a little bit. His father was at the door of the bathroom, with his hand still on the doorknob.

"...Y-Yes, dad?"

Mr. Donovan gazed at him. Why was he looking at him like that? He was so serious. What had he done?

"Were you masturbating?" he asked then.

"...Yes, dad."

Wait. No. Shit. Why did he say that?

Mr. Donovan, after a moment of motionlessness, nodded and left, closing the door behind him. Clyde bit his under lip and stayed under the water for a while.

He had screwed up, giving that answer to his father, but he had a much more important problem. He was reluctant, but he touched his back again. It was there...it was still there...He scratched it and it hurt.

He forgot about the shampoo and the rest of his body. He had to see it. Walking out the shower and, dripping, not minding about getting a towel, looked for that hand mirror...there it was! With the help of the one hanging from the wall, Clyde looked at the reflection of his back.

What he saw almost made him scream again. He felt he was going to throw up. He didn't want to touch it but at the same time he did. No, he'd better not touch that. He had to call an ambulance. Or...no, no, no. Nobody could see that. Oh, dear. Oh, sweet Jesus.

"...Kyle?"

"Ah, hey, Clyde, what's up?"

"Listen, uhm...I can't meet you this afternoon."

"Huh? Why? Did something happen?"

"It's just that...uhm...My mom! I mean, my father wants to go to the cemetery to put flowers on my mother's grave and...it's been a long time since I last...Yeah, so...I can't say no to him...Ma-Maybe another day, okay?"

"Okay, sure, no problem...Uhm, Clyde."

"Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yes!"

Kyle gazed at the phone after Clyde abruptely hanged up.


	6. Freaking out: Round 3

"PUT A SHIRT ON, KENNY'S FRIENDS ARE HERE!"

"WHY?! THIS IS MY HOUSE!"

"MINE TOO, AND I WANT YOU TO BE FUCKING DRESSED WHEN THE KIDS COME!"

"UGH, FUCK YOU!"

"NO, FUCK YOU!"

Mrs. McCormick opened the door with a beer can in her hand.

"Hi, boys, how are you?" she asked them with a tone of voice that could make one believe there were two Carols inside of the house.

"Uhm, hi, Mrs. McCormick." Stan raised a hand.

"We're okay." Kyle said.

"I'm glad to see you are out of the hospital." Carol affectionally touched Stan's chin. "I'm so glad."

When the three of them came into the house, she closed the door and her tone of voice changed again.

"STUART! LEAVE THE COUCH TO THE BOYS!"

"Don't worry about it, Mrs. McCormick." Kyle replied.

"We're going to stay in my room, mom." Kenny took his friends to his bedroom, although they already knew the way.

"WHY DO YOU GOT TO KICK ME OUT OF MY OWN COUCH?!"

If it wasn't for his parents' arguments the house would have been very silent. Karen was studying hard in order to get grades high enough to be grant-holding in college. Kevin used to go there just to eat and sleep, and only from time to time—he was in jail now. As for Kenny, he barely stayed at home, and when he was, he was pretty silent.

He closed the door and the four of them got comfortable, Cartman and Kenny lying on the bed and Stan and Kyle sitting on the carpet. They started eating the snacks they had bought a while ago. Kenny didn't seem worried about crumbs falling to the carpet or his sheets, he played to catch the snacks in the air.

"...I can't believe this..."

"What?" Cartman looked at Kyle.

He showed him his phone. Stan and Kenny approached to see.

It was a Youtube video, presented by no other than Kyle's brother, Ike.

 _"...He was having a good time and see what they did to him!"_

The camera showed different shots of Kyle lying on an hospital bed, with his eyes closed, paying special attention to his burns, showing them with all their rawness. There were also some shots of him around the house, eating breakfast or about to have a shower, zooming on his scars and presenting him in those times of the day when he definitely looked like a zombie.

 _"A 11,000 volt shock is enough to kill a person. My brother and his friends were very lucky but the next victim may not be."_

The video ended with a photograph of the owners of the ride in which the accident had occured.

 _"These people, Humbert and Penelope Johnson, are responsible for an accident that could have been fatal and permanent scars of twelve innocent people, including my brother. So, if you want to live, avoid them at all costs. Or if you want to kill yourselves, go ahead! Let's do justice! See you guys next week with new videos!"_

"I'm killing him. I'm gonna kill him." Kyle put the phone down and looked at his friends. "Have you seen that? He took photos of me while I was unconscious! And in the fucking shower!"

"Pfft, you have Angry Birds underwear?" Cartman laughed and Kenny couldn't help giggling too.

"He didn't even tell me!" Kyle complained.

"Well, don't be mean to him, he clearly did it for you." Stan said. And he didn't say it out loud, but he hoped the kid was monetizing his videos, because that one had 15,345 views in two hours. That boycott would be nice.

"No, he did it for him, to get cheap views at my expense. That little bastard!"

"Relax, man, have a chip." Kenny waved a corn chip in front of Kyle's face.

"I don't wanna." Kyle muttered, putting his phone back to his pocket with anger.

"Nah, you know who's really screwing up? Your mom." Cartman said, turning around, making the bed creak, to look at Kyle with a malicious face.

"Cartman, don't start that again."

"Seriously, Kyle, you should consider my offer once again. They'll replace you with a blondie with big boobs one of these days, I won't, and the salary..."

"Cartman. I'm not in the mood for this."

"True that I'd pay you the minimum wage, but at least you'd have an income and you'd be able to tell your brother and your mom to go fuck themselves. Seriously, you should have-

"Cartman!"

What happened next was confusing.

There was a flash, and a scream. The room seemed to tremble. Cartman fell from the bed. Stan got up with a jump. Kenny held his hand, yelling—the chip, the fingers which were holding it and a good part of the hand were missing.

And Kyle was too shocked to move or say a thing.

There was a big hole on the wall in front of him, enough for a car to come in.

"BOYS, DON'T MAKE SO MUCH NOISE, WE'RE HAVING AN ARGUMENT HERE!" Stuart's voice was heard.

"Dude, what?!" Cartman got up and pointed at the big hole.

He turned to look at Kyle.

"What did you just do?!"

Kyle opened his mouth but he was unable to say anything.

"Holy shit, Kenny!" Stan ran to Kenny's side. His fingers were missing, and he was bleeding so much. "We have to go to an hospital!"

"Okay, and what do we tell them? That Kyle here desintegrated his fingers with his eye lasers? Is that what you will tell them?" Cartman frowned.

"Well, we'll have to do something!" Stan insisted.

"I...I..." Kyle babbled.

"What the fuck?! What the actual fuck?!" Cartman ran a hand through his hair.

"I don't...How did I do that? Oh, my God, Kenny..." Kyle wanted to approach but he didn't. He...He didn't understand what was happening. Did he do that? Did that ray come from his eyes?

Stan was feeling awful looking at Kenny's hand and at the hole in his room. He couldn't blame Kyle for that, because he was seeing his face so white, so confused. Of course he didn't do that on purpose—but that was still something surreal.

"Okay, okay, if we act casual Kenny's parents won't make any questions and we can go to the hospital and..." Cartman breathed deeply to calm himself down.

"Guys..."

"And the wall, well...Kyle...No, don't do anything. Stan, go find a canvas or a bunch of tires or something we can cover this wall with."

"Guys."

"My God, how...How did I..." Kyle was touching his face.

"Guys!"

Finally the three of them noticed that Kenny was talking to them. He was pointing at his hand with his head. Although they didn't want to look at that horrible amputation, he was insisting so much that they did.

It was indeed something worth seeing. The hand was growing back.

It started by a small piece of bone standing out. It was getting larger and larger, branched off, thickened. The flesh and skin followed closely, covering what could be now recognized as the palm of a hand. The bones and flesh kept growing in different directions, forming the fingers. Once the hand was recognizable, something grew as well, the nails. It was all as fast as a forward effect on a video, it barely took a few seconds.

In the end, Kenny raised his hand until it was at the level of his eyes. He moved the fingers. He could do it perfectly. There was no more pain.

Stan turned around and threw up on the carpet.

"What...the fuck..." Cartman did not even blink.

"K-Kenny? How..." Kyle, wide-eyed, touched his hand.

"...I don't know..." was all Kenny could say.

"You guys...What's the matter with you?" Stan looked at Kyle and Kenny alternatively getting evidently more and more nervous. He was as pale as a paper sheet.

"Stan, please, don't freak out...I...I don't know what's going on either..." Kyle murmured.

"You destroyed Kenny's room and his hands with laser eyes and he, he just restored his hand!" Cartman yelled.

"Sssh! Don't shout! Kenny's family's going to hear you!"

"Well, and what do you want me to do? Get Kenny's boob magazines and read them like nothing happened?"

"You never...?" Stan asked.

"Of course not! I'm not fucking Cyclops!" Kyle replied.

"Then?" Cartman asked.

"I...I don't know..."

There was an incoming call for Stan. He didn't even see who is was and responded.

"Uh, yeah?"

"Stan? It's Tweek..."

"Tweek, I can't, uhm, talk to you right now..."

"Please, it's important."

"This is not a good idea." Craig told his boyfriend, crossing his arms.

Tweek ignored him. "Uhm, remember the accident? Of course you remember...Uhm...Ah...You, Kyle and Stan please come to my shop tomorrow, okay? Something's happened."

"What do you mean? Tweek?" Stan he looked at his friends. "It's Tweek. He says something happened."

"Who cares? Something did happen here!" Cartman replied.

"That electrocution has done something to me and Timmy!"

"Tweek, what do you mean? Are you alright?"

"I'm not alright! I healed Timmy's hand and he, he's talking to Craig and me through telepathy!" Tweek shrieked.

"Hang up, we're dealing with something here, remember?!" Cartman said to Stan.

"Listen, Tweek, I don't know if you've had-"

"Give that to me." Craig snatched Tweek's phone. "Stan, this is Craig. Believe me, Tweek's telling the truth. There's some bizarre shit happening here."

"What? That Tweek healed Timmy and he's a telepath?" Stan asked. With those words, he attracted his friends' attention.

"Yeah, believe me, I thought he was crazy at first, but he's telling the truth. This is weird, and we think it has something to do with the accident at the fair."

"With the accident? Why?"

"Because we get elecrocuted and weeks later this happens, haven't you read a comic in your life? It figures! Tomorrow at Tweek Bros., 11 a.m." And with that said, Craig cut the communication.

"What...did he say about Tweek and Timmy?" Kyle asked.

"He says they've been doing supernatural stuff, like mind tricks and healings, I don't know."

"You think they're being serious?" Cartman asked.

"I guess so. I can't see Craig making a joke about it." Kyle answered.

"So...shall we go and see what this is about?" Stan asked.

"Yeah...Yeah, perhaps we're not the only ones who..."

Kyle didn't finish the sentence. He looked at the hole in Kenny's room. So did his friends.

"Shit, man, my room..." Kenny grumbled.

* * *

 _"And I told him: 'Nah, girl' and she..."_

 _"...With extra cheese and pepperoni..."_

 _"Why did you do this to me, bitch?!"_

 _"...a submarine..."_

Wendy's head was aching. Where did those voices come from? She felt as if she was in the middle of an airport, but she was just standing in front of the mirror of the bathroom, alone, away from the only two people in the house: Token and Scott.

And that was not all. When she closed her eyes, she saw messages, tweets, posts. All of them from blogs she had never read—no, there were some from profiles she followed, by celebrities, institutions, people he knew.

What was that? It was terrible. Why was she hearing and seeing those things? She hoped it would stop soon, it was driving her crazy.

Someone knocked at the door.

"Wendy? Are you alright? ...May I come in?"

"Yes."

Token opened the door to see Wendy pouring some water into her face.

"How do you feel? Is the valerian working?"

"I don't think so...It's so weird...I..."

"It's okay. Relax. If you want to stay here, you can. My parents will be away for the whole weekend. You can sleep in their room."

"Thank you, Token, but..."

"Come on. Something's happening and we have to...figure this out together."

Wendy nodded.

They left the bathroom and joined Scott in the living room. The television was off, but he was gazing at the screen as if he was watching something something very interesting.

"You okay, Scott?" Token asked.

"Not really...I...Come on, you can say it: I'm a freak." Scott replied.

"You're not a freak. Something's not right here. Diabetes doesn't do that to people. It never happened to you before."

"But I almost..."

"You didn't do anything." Wendy reassured him. "You were scared. Don't think about it."

Oh, that would be difficult.

 _"Tomorrow at Tweek Bros., 11 a.m"_

"Huh?"

Scott and Token looked at Wendy.

"What's wrong?" Token asked.

"That was Craig's voice..."

"I...didn't hear him." Scott said.

"I did. Just like I'm hearing you."

"How?"

"I don't know, it's in my head, I..."

Token's cell phone rang. Craig.

"Huh...Yeah, Craig?"

"Token. I need you to find Wendy, Scott, Butters, Jimmy and Clyde. We have to meet and talk about something that's happened."

"What's wrong?"

"Tweek and Timmy..." Wendy muttered.

"Tweek and Timmy are doing weird stuff and we think it is related to what happened at the fair. You might be affected, so we'd better see."

"What kind of weird stuff? Like turning into big buys or hearing stuff? Or teleporting?"

"What? No, not that kind of stuff."

"Ah...Because that's what happened to us yesterday."

"What? You did?"

"What did he say?" Token heard Tweek's voice.

"...Okay. Okay. So they're not the only ones. In that case, we _must_ meet. Tweek was not wrong: this is an epidemy. Tomorrow at Tweek Bros., 11 a.m. Got it?"

"Yeah."

"See you there."

Token turned to tell his partners but Wendy muttered:

"Tweek and Timmy have being doing incredible things too..."

"Yeah, that's what Craig says. He told me to-"

"Tell those who suffered the accident too."

"Did you hear that? I didn't." Scott said. The volume wasn't so loud, he didn't hear anything Craig was saying.

"Yes, I heard that very clearly." Wendy replied.

"That's...I don't know what to say." Token muttered.

"Me too. It's driving me crazy. You're right, Token. I can't go back home like this. They'll see something's wrong with me and start making questions and I won't know what to say and..."

"It's okay, stay here for tonight. We'll see tomorrow. Do you want to stay too, Scott?"

"Guess it'll be the best. I don't know if that...stuff will happen again..."

"Don't worry, we're here to help you. I'll call the others."

"Wait."

Wendy took a step forward.

"Let me try something."

"What?"

She could hear others' conversations but could she initiate one? Wendy closed her eyes and focused. How did she call Token? She wanted help, she asked for it. She thought of the boys. She had their faces in her head. Jimmy. Clyde. Butters. There they were.

 _[Something's happened to those who stepped into that ride. Something we cannot explain. Perhaps it happened to you too. Go to Tweek Bros. tomorrow at 11, a.m._ _We have to talk.]_

"What?" Scott asked her.

Wendy slowly opened her eyes.

"...I don't know if that worked..."

A few moments later, there was an incoming call from Butters.

"Wendy? I got your text. What is happening exactly?"

"Oh! Uh, we're not very sure yet, but you'd better come. It is very important."

"Okay, I'll go. But, is it something bad?"

"I don't know, Butters. Please, come."

"Don't worry, I will. See you tomorrow."

"Butters is coming and...Oh!" There was a notification. It was Clyde. He was in. And he replied with just an 'OK'—something very short compared to the texts he used to send. And another one from Jimmy. 'Sure I'll be there. You guys won't believe what happened to me this morning.', he said.

"All of them are coming."

"Good. Let's see if we can clear this up. It sounds like a joke but I'm feeling a little scared here..." Token murmured.


	7. The exhibition

Cartman didn't know whether to laugh or shake his head.

"If you're trying to pass unnoticed, you're failing so hard."

Kyle stole his father's big sunglasses but for some reason he walked around in such a way that it was hard not to look at him and ask what was wrong with him, if he needed to go to the toilet or if there was a stone inside of his shoes.

"Shut up, I'm not trying to. I just don't want to...risk it happening again..."

"And you think sunglasses will stop laser rays?" Cartman remarked.

"Ssssh! Are you crazy?!"

"Come on, don't worry, we're already-Oh."

"What?" Kyle looked at Stan.

Stan called his friends' attention to the person who was approaching Tweek Bros.—If there was someone who ever looked suspicious, it was him.

"Clyde?"

Clyde was startled.

"Ah! It's you!"" Clyde didn't seem very relieved.

"What are you doing with a coat on? It's so hot, you're going to get sick." Stan told him.

"Uh...I just...You got that strange message, right? Did the others come already?"

"It seems so: I'm seeing Jimmy and Butters inside." Kyle looked through the window of the shop and saw his two friends conversating as they came into the employees only room.

In that case, the five young men came in.

Stan was about to close the door behind him when someone held it.

"...Hi..."

Wendy avoided looking at him, dealing with a rebellious lock of hair.

"...Good morning, boys..." she replied.

"Ah, hey, we didn't see you coming." Cartman said to her, Token and Scott, the two of them behind Wendy.

"That's...something we might want to talk about here." Token replied, exchanging an intriguing look with Scott.

"Good morning, kids." Mr. Tweak greeted them. "Let me serve this lady here first and I'll be with you."

"Good morning, Mr. Tweak. No, thanks, we didn't come here for coffee. We came to see Tweek." Token replied.

"Ah, he's in the room, right there. You're not going to stay there all the time, right? This is an establishment."

"Don't worry, Mr. Tweak, we won't bother you. We'll be leaving soon. Thank you, Mr. Tweak." Wendy said.

Mr. Tweak watched them march with a wary look. Out of all public places and houses Tweek and his friends could have met, why did they have to use that room? That was an inappropiate use. He would have to have a serious talk with his son.

Craig, Timmy, Butters, Jimmy and Tweek were already there when they came into the room. They closed the door and silence took over.

There was no formal greeting. The one who called them, Tweek, did nothing but drink a cup of coffee one right after the other. His bags under his eyes seemed more marked. Nobody knew what to say.

 _["Well, the electrocution left unexpected effects on us."]_

It was Timmy's voice the one which broke the silence, and it was an shocking start.

"Wha-?"

"Tim-Tim?" Jimmy came closer to watch his friend. He saw perfectly that his lips were not moving.

 _["Yes, this is no trick. You are hearing my thoughts right now."]_

 _"_ Nah. Seriously. How do you do that? You've just taken a ventriloquy course and want to mess with us." Cartman also approached but he wasn't as delicate as Jimmy, directly, touching his chest and throat, trying to catch movement.

 _["I would appreciate if you didn't do that."]_ , Timmy looked at him with a slightly irritated expression, and Cartman had to admit that, if it was a trick, it was perfect.

"This is the weird thing you talked about?" Wendy asked.

"No, no, no, there's more." Tweek gulped his coffe and immediately thought of grabbing another cup. "There's so much more..."

"Show them." Craig encouraged him.

"No way..."

"Yes, please, you called us to talk about it." Token insisted.

Tweek had to give up. He was right: he had brought them there. Leaving the coffee aside, he grabbed Token's hand. How did he do that? He focused on the circumstances. He was feeling sorry about Timmy's burns; perhaps all he had to do was to wish Token's disappeared. He closed his eyes in order to make it easier. He breathed as slowly as the caffeine and the adrenaline allowed him. He had tried to show that to his fiancé, but Craig's marks didn't disappear. Focus. All he needed was to focus.

Then, it happened. Butters gasped. "Look!"

They were all looking. Token's and Tweek's hands started to glow. Token shivered, feeling as if he had immersed his hand into cold water. Everyone watched in awe.

The light vanished and Tweek took a step backwards. Token raised his hand. It was completely new, as if it had never suffered any kind of damage. It even felt really smooth.

"Whoa!" Scott smiled.

"That...was awesome, dude." Stan muttered.

"It's kind of freaky, isn't it?" Tweek scratched his arm, looking quite shy.

"Are you kidding? Thank you, man!" Token told him.

"I can remove your scars too, if you want..." Tweek offered himself to the rest of the gang.

"Later. First, does someone else want to show something?" Cartman asked, looking around him.

Scott raised a hand but immediately put it down.

"I...really don't want you to see that..." he murmured.

"What do you mean?" Clyde asked.

"He had a diabetic attack the other day at my house." Wendy explained. "The...most incredible diabetic attack I've ever seen. He started to swell up, uhm, like...muscled and such..."

"Muscled?" Kyle asked.

"What? Like the Incredible Hulk or something?" Craig asked.

"No. I mean, more or less..." Scott replied. "I didn't turn green...I think..."

"It stopped when I injected insulin on him." Token said.

"Hope you understand that I don't want to show you..." Scott said.

"Don't worry, it's o-okay." Jimmy replied.

"I...can't show you what happened to me either." Kyle spoke up. He was about to remove his sunglasses, but he didn't dare to.

"He made a fucking hole in Kenny's room with his laser eyes!" Cartman explained for him.

"Say what? Laser eyes?" Tweek asked, drawing back a little from Kyle.

"It was an accident!"

"And you desintegrated Kenny's hand. By the way, get a load of this, guys."

Kenny was distracted when Cartman came to him, he didn't have time to react. Before he could move, the fat boy hit him with a coffee mill that was on a table near him. Kenny fell to the floor with his blond hair stained with blood.

"Cartman!" Stan yelled.

"What the fuck-!?" Cartman pressed a hand against Kyle's lips.

"Look!"

Kenny was standing up with a bit of difficulty. He touched his broken skull gently with the tip of his fingers. Those who were close to him, to help him stand up, saw it: they saw how the open wound closed and the only thing left was the blood.

"It...!" Wendy's mouth remained open.

"Cunt." Kenny glared at Cartman. He was upset, but he was evidently feeling alright now.

"Oh, no, there's blood on the floor, my parents are going to see it, they-" Tweek complained.

"Don't worry about that." Craig told him. "This is getting weirder and weirder."

"And more it will get. Step aside. Look at this." Jimmy said.

How long would have taken him to run around the table? Several seconds, of course. His legs never allowed him to go too fast. But this time was different. Jimmy stretched his limbs, took deep air and ran.

Thirty five milliseconds later, he was back to where he started. The table wobbled, proving that someone had passed by it rashly. But there was no need for that: they all had seen it. It was really quick, but they all saw how Jimmy turned into a lightning.

"Jimmy!" Butters exclaimed.

"I've been training, but I've ne-never been this fa-fa-fast." Jimmy said.

 _["Has somebody else noted any change?"]_ , Timmy asked.

"Yeah, everybody speak up." Jimmy nodded.

"I...haven't done anything extraordinary." Stan admitted out loud.

"Perhaps you just have to try." Scott suggested.

"How?"

"I don't know...Drink coffee, get angry, run..."

"Hm..."

"It's okay. Perhaps you don't have any powers." Kyle said.

"Perhaps not. I don't feel any different either." Craig said.

"Me neither." As he said that, Butters closed his eyes firmly and waited for a response from his body, but nothing happened, he just got red.

"Same here." Cartman said.

"Of course you're not." Wendy said to him. "You didn't get on that ride."

Cartman frowned. "True, but I've been exposed to you mutant freaks. And what can you do, heh?"

Wendy wanted to punch Cartman in the face, but he was right. It was her turn.

"Somebody hold my phone."

"Your phone?" Clyde asked.

"Yeah."

Wendy handed the device to Timmy and closed her eyes. She extended her arms in front of her so that everyone could see that she was not holding anything or using her hands.

"...What are you doing?" Craig asked.

Wendy shushed him. Instants later, all of their phones rang. Kyle grabbed his and read aloud.

" _I wrote this text with my mind_."

"You...got Bluetooth in your head?" Butters asked.

"I can write and read messages with my mind, it seems." Wendy explained.

"Get out of here." Cartman said.

"I can also see that you have a compromising photo of Honey Boo Boo in your Tumblr faves..." Wendy added with malice.

"Hey!"

"You have access to the cloud? Okay, that's so cool." Jimmy smiled.

"Thank you." Wendy smiled him back.

"Okay, who's left? Token?" Butters asked Token.

"Uhm, yeah, I found out I can...Well, a picture speaks a thousand words...Can you help me with it?"

"Sure, pal."

Token grabbed Butters firmly. The boy was a bit nervous, because he didn't know what to expect.

It was then when the door opened and Mrs. Tweak showed her head.

"Hello, boys."

"Uh..."

"Hi, Mrs. Tweak!" some looked more natural than the others.

"What are you doing? Do you want some coffee?" Tweek's mother asked.

"No, thanks, mom." Tweek replied maybe too fast, and evidently wishing she left.

"Well, okay. Call me if you need something, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

The door closed once again. Scott approached to listen.

"Okay, she's gone."

"Well, there we go." Token said.

Butters couldn't help letting out a little scream when felt a really cold sensation, followed by a strange metallic glow and, when he realized, he and Token were at the other extreme of the room. Once their partners had seen it, Token grabbed him again and the effect returned, putting them back to their original place.

"This is how Wendy, Scott and I came here." Token explained.

"Teleport..." Stan muttered.

"That's right."

"Okay, that was...kind of cool...But, please, never do that to me again..." Butters walked away from him, feeling as if there was something wrong with his body, because he couldn't walk properly, he was so startled.

"Clyde?"

Clyde avoided looking at anybody.

"You're the only one left." Kyle said.

"Did something happen to you?" Scott asked.

"Well..." he muttered.

 _["You can tell us."]_ , Timmy encouraged him.

"Yeah, come on." Craig joined.

"It's okay, Clyde, we're not going to judge you." Wendy said.

Clyde drummed his fingers on the lapel of his coat. He seemed very embarrassed, and all those eyes on him didn't help.

"...But what if Tweek's mom...?"

"It's okay, don't worry about that." Token replied.

"...O-Okay. I'll show you. But she's not going to come again, right?"

"No, come on, show us." Craig insisted.

"Could you gather in circle or something?" Clyde requested.

"Please, C-Clyde, there's no one else here. Nobody will see you. I promise." Jimmy reassured him.

Clyde sighed.

Reluctantly, he removed the coat and the T-shirt under it and closed his eyes. Had he seen his friends' faces, he would have felt terrible.

No one said anything in a while. Until Cartman couldn't contain himself.

"You got bug wings?!"

"Ohhh...!" Clyde pressed his eyes even more, wishing to drop dead in that same instant.

"Well...Uh...It's not that bad, buddy!" Scott wanted to pat his back but he didn't do it in the end. He didn't want to touch those wings.

"Yeah, they're...good-looking." Stan was lying. He felt his stomach twisting upon looking at them. But he supposed that someone who loved insects would find them pretty.

"Can you fly with those?" Token got closer. He saw them retract inside Clyde's back. Perhaps he could take them in and out whenever he pleased—although he didn't seem to find all that pleasing enough to try and do something with them.

"I don't know..." Clyde replied.

"Okay, we have a winner for the freakiest mutation." Craig crossed his arms, tilting his head to watch the wings from a different angle.

That was more than Clyde could handle.

"I'M NOT A FREAK!" furious, turned around and faced Craig.

"Hey, hey, hey! Wait! Calm down, Clyde!" Wendy had to hold him before he punched Craig.

"Calm down?! Of course you're not worried! You didn't sprout bug wings! I don't know what happened but I want to end with this now, before my father, my boss, somebody knows about this!" Clyde let go of her brusquely and rushed to put his shirt and coat back on.

"Y-Yeah, I'd rather go back to my old self too...I don't know if I will be able to handle this without losing my mind..." Tweek nodded while grabbing another cup of coffee. He needed it. God, did he need it.

"You guys have pretty cool stuff, but I almost killed Kenny." Kyle joined them.

"Me too! This is dangerous!" Scott said.

"What? You get _real_ superpowers and you want to give them up? Are you out of your minds?" Cartman was astonished.

"Okay, okay, boys, stop. Listen." Wendy waved her arms to get their attention. "This is so weird, we are all scared, alright. But we don't know if we can do something about it. Maybe...maybe it's just a matter of time we can control this."

 _["Wendy's right. We can't even be sure that the electrocution caused this."]_ , Timmy intervened, _["A few of our friends here have not developed any powers...And we don't know if there is someone out there who has."]_

"Right." Token nodded.

"So?" Butters asked.

 _["I say you, Craig and Stan, perhaps Eric too, pay attention to your everyday. Perhaps your abilities are subtle or show under special circumstances. As for the rest of us, the only thing we can do is watch or changes and try not to attract anybody's attention until we are sure of the source or we find someone who can help us."]_

"...Well, alright..." Clyde looked away.

"I guess that's the only t-thing we can do, right?" Jimmy looked at his partners.

"Yeah...I guess so..." Kyle muttered.

"We'll keep in touch, then. Perhaps we can help each other with this." Wendy looked at Clyde while saying that, and he regretted having shouted at her.

"I should have never gone to that fair..." Tweek murmured while sipping his coffee.


	8. Stan's quest

"That cream is miraculous, did you see that, Sharon? He looks as if nothing had happened."

"Yeah, it's amazing."

Stan chewed his lettuce very, very slowly, although he wished to finish soon and rush back to his room, where no one could make uncomfortable observations or questions.

"Did Shelley call?"

"No. I swear to God, this girl seems to have forgotten she's got a family."

Stan felt a bit relieved that the conversation had changed. He wouldn't have known what to say if they inquired him about his scars. Maybe he shouldn't have asked Tweek to heal them. It was too suspicious.

The dinner, leaving that brief moment aside, passed rather peacefully. His parents talked to each other but Stan wasn't forced to participate in the conversation. He was too absent-minded to give coherent answers anyway.

All that was happening...was the strangest thing he had ever seen, and he had been through a lot of crap in his life already. Supernatural powers. And they were not fake, or some kind of elaborated joke: he had seen it with his own eyes. Kyle, Kenny, Wendy...

The problem was not that his friends had those abilities. In a way, he found them cool. Perhaps the only problem was Wendy and her supposed connection to the Internet. From the very moment he knew, Stan committed himself to be more careful about what he did online. He couldn't believe she could spy people's favorites, conversations, followers and, well, everything. It was scary when he thought about it. No, the problem was not that they had powers, but what if _he_ had them. What kind of powers did he acquire? Was it something dangerous, like Kyle's laser eyes?

He was starting so suffer the tension. Just in case, he was careful always to stay calm, not to do any sudden movements—it felts as if he had become a walking explosive, it wasn't nice at all, but he didn't want to do something he could regret. Just in case, he spent the rest of that day and the others which followed in his room, only being in touch with his parents when it was time to eat. At work, he had to socialize and be in touch with people, but when he could, he prefered to avoid them. At least, until he knew exactly what he was capable of. If something happened, he prefered to be alone.

Kyle, Kenny and Cartman were in touch with him during this time. That way, Stan knew that Kyle had secluded himself too and never removed his glasses, something that his family had found suspicious. Cartman was anxiously waiting for news; if he had found out if he had powers himself, he never told. As for Kenny, he had gone back to his old way of life, unloading trucks, doing little reparations here and there. He didn't have much time to call or text, but he made clear that he was there to help in any way possible.

Two days after the meeting at Tweek Bros. he knocked at the door of the Marsh residence and took Stan for a walk.

"You need a bit of fresh air, buddy."

Stan hated to admit that it was true. Being locked, waiting for something terrible to happen, was not doing him any favors. His powers hadn't shown up yet.

"Maybe I don't have any and I'm worrying over nothing."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure you got something too. This...thing, it can't be selective."

"What if it shows and I hurt someone?"

"That's why I'm here. You and I are going to the woods and there, you're going to try."

"Are you sure about this, Kenny? I could hurt you...I could destroy the whole place too...There's so much stuff that could go wrong."

"Kyle destroyed my hand already, remember? I don't care. As for the forest, that's what the fire brigade is for. We'll make up a lie if something happens."

Stan was not very sure about this but he still followed his friend. Although there was a risk of fire, the woods were the most dicreet part of South Park, a place where there were practically no passers-by. Once he was there, Stan relaxed quite a bit. He felt away from the judging eyes of others, free to act natural. Free to let everything happen.

He stood there, Kenny was by his side.

"...Hm...I'm not very sure of what to do..."

"I don't know...Try to punch a tree."

"Well...Alright..."

Kenny stepped aside while Stan took a step forward. He fixed his eyes on the tree in front of him, then tensed the muscles of his arm. Taking deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment. He opened them and punched the tree as hard as he could.

"Ouch!"

All he got was a sore hand.

"Okay, that didn't work." Kenny said.

"Oh, really?" Stan frowned, shaking his hand.

"Maybe you have to try some fancy poses." Kenny continued, as if he had heard nothing.

"Fancy poses?"

"You know, extending your arms and..."

"Ah, right."

Stan thought of Spiderman's hand thing, Doctor Strange's poses. In fact, he tried all poses he remembered seeing in comic book covers and superhero movies. He also tried a few of his own invention. But nothing happened. Well, something did happen: he looked like a clown.

"Don't laugh!" Kenny could barely contain his laughter.

"Sorry. Well, I guess there's only one thing left to try."

"What?"

"What did you do to Wendy?"

Stan froze.

"What?"

"You wouldn't be hiding from her if you hadn't done something bad."

"I...don't know how this has anything to do with..."

"Did you cheat on her?"

"Kenny."

"Did she cheat on you, then?"

"No, I..."

"One day you're being sweethearts and now, she's making out with Scott in front of everybody. There's something the-"

"Kenny, stop! Stop right there!"

Kenny finally shut his mouth. Stan seemed so angry now, but nothing extraordinary happened.

"Sorry, man."

"Why did you have to bring that up?" Stan grunted, crossing his arms and walking around, as if he was deciding whether to leave or not.

"I just wanted to trigger you and see if that helped you let it out."

"Well, it didn't."

"Sorry."

They spent a while in silence, just...there, not doing anything. Kenny started to regret having recurred to that. Now he was sure that Stan's powers did not manifest with strong emotions such as anger, but he had made his friend feel upset needlessly. If he hadn't even told Kyle, his best friend in the world, about that subject, it was because it hurt too much. He was not like Cartman. He didn't like to push his friends' buttons.

"I'm really sorry."

"No, Kenny, I'm sorry." Stan looked at his friend, looking a bit more relaxed. "You were only trying to help."

"I'm buying you a drink."

"No, I'll pay."

* * *

"Ah, look who's there." Randy turned around in his seat to watch Stan and Kenny taking a seat a couple of tables away from his. "Hey there, kids! Had a good walk?"

"Ah, hi, dad." Stan did not pay more attention to his father and focused on Kenny. "I really don't know what do try next."

"Maybe we can shoot you or something?" Kenny proposed.

"Uhm, no. I don't want to get shot."

"And stabbed?"

"No."

"But maybe you have a hard skin or regeneration, like me."

"But what if I don't? I'd be dead. No, I'd rather not try."

They were talking and didn't notice their fathers and Kyle's and Butter's looking at them.

"Your son also looks mighty good." Randy commented to Stuart.

"I know, right? He's been working since he got out from the hospital. He's such a champ." Stuart proudly stated.

"I wished Butters recovered so easily." Stephen muttered, sipping his drink.

"Well, don't think that Stan's that fine. I've seen that he barely leaves his room. He goes to work, has a shower, eats, but he barely does anything else. Sharon is very worried about him, but she hasn't told him anything. It's probably a consequence of the accident. Still, he seems kind of worried. I don't know if he's having some kind of problem he didn't tell us about."

"Ah, yes...But..."

Gerald pressed his lips. He turned his head towards the two boys, as if he was deciding if he should speak to them.

"What are you thinking about, Gerald?" Stuart asked.

"It's just that it's happening to Kyle too. But I think I must talk to him. He's wearing sunglasses all the time."

"Sunglasses?"

"Yes. Even inside of the house. Sheila and I thought that maybe what happened made him sensitive to the light but I've been thinking, an electrocution shouldn't affect the eyes, right?"

"I heard that it caused cataracts and corneal leukoma to a guy who was electrocuted once." Stephen commented.

"That's what I fear...I wanted to take him to the doctor, to see if something was wrong, but he doesn't want to go. Darn, he almost panicked when I told him. He's acting really weird: he barely eats, he spends all of his time locked in his room, doing who knows what...I'm very worried about him. I thought that the boys are close to him, I'm sure that if something happened to him, he would have told them..."

"He survived an electrocution. Perhaps he's just shocked." Randy said.

"Perhaps I could try to convince him to see a psychiatrist?"

"Yeah, just in case something is happening." Stephen nodded.

Unaware of their fathers' conversation, Stan and Kenny kept talking.

"Ah! I got it! Maybe you can fly! You just have to climb to your roof and..."

"Well...Maybe with a helmet and some mattress..."

"That would be so fucking cool."

"Yeah, it wouldn't be too bad. Uhm...What about talking to animals or something like that?"

"Okay, next time we see a dog or a cat, you try to speak to it...Wait, should we could mites as animals?"

"I guess so...Uh, what do you have in your pocket?"

"This?" Kenny saw that Stan was pointing at a screwdriver that was almost falling from the pocket of his jacket. "Ah. I was repairing an A/C this morning, guess I forgot it. So. What else could there be? Ah! Water! We should have gone to the lake and...What are you thinking about?"

Stan was looking strange, his eyes fixed on the screwdriver which was on Kenny's hand.

How could he feel so fascinated about such a simple thing? Well, maybe the word was not fascinated. It was...Stan couldn't really describe it. It was as if the tool was calling him somehow? This urge to grab it, even though he didn't know what he would do with it?

He didn't know why he did it, but he did it. He opened his hand, extending it a bit towards the tool.

Kenny felt how the screwdriver twitched in his hand.

Then, there was a jerk and it flew to Stan's hand. An orange gleam started covering the screawdriver, Stan felt it was getting kind of hot.

Before something happened, he tossed it to the floor.

Kenny looked at Stan with his eyes wide open. After a moment of shock, he smiled.

"There it is!"

"Wh...What was that? I got...screwdriver powers or something?" Stan felt his heart was pounding.

"I don't know, but it has something to do with it."

"I felt it was going to explode or...I don't know, but something almost happened...I hope nobody saw that..."

"Perhaps you can control the metal?"

"This place is full of metal, but I didn't felt anything like that until I saw that thing."

Stan turned towards the table where his father was. Randy looked at him and Stan looked away very quickly. After exchanging some words with Kenny, the two of us got up and, not saying goodbye to anybody, they left. Their glasses were half-full.

Gerald took this as a sign that something was wrong.

"They are twenty-one now," Stuart said, "they're in that age when hey have their secrets."

"When it comes to their health, there should be no secrets." Gerald sighed. He crouched down to grab something from the floor. A screwdriver.


	9. A ghost from the past

_[Look at this, Tim-Tim]_

 _[It seems I can make my atoms vibrate so fast they are undetectable to the human eye]_

 _[We have to watch this in a laboratory, dude]_

It wasn't nice to spy on someone's conversations but Wendy told herself that she was just testing her powers, not gossiping. Around her, at the mall, people were texting, talking through the phone, posting tweets. Talking about their day, their interests, showing off what they just bought, the meals they have been just served...Nothing too interesting, but it was an exercise for her to watch a particular person and figure out what they were doing online. Still, she paid much attention to what her friends were saying. Even if they were not there, she could hear and read what they were saying to each other.

In that precise moment Jimmy was texting Timmy, sending him videos in which he seemed to disappear in front of the the mirror. She also caught a phone conversation between Craig and Tweek, in which Craig told his boyfriend that nothing unusual had happened to him yet and that he didn't give a fuck if he was a mutant or not. Wendy quickly took her mind away from them when, next, he told Tweek with a lower and hoarser voice that it was good that he could heal because he was going to leave him sore that night after work. She then caught was Clyde was searching in Google: 'discreet surgeon' and clicked on several results which lead to the pages of some professionals who declared they would keep their consultations a secret. She felt pity for him and wanted to send him a text, but she wasn't sure if it would do him any good. He was awfully scared. Of course he was: he had been the only one who had undergone a physical change—Scott's was triggered by sugar, but he had those wings all the time. Perhaps Token's observation was right and he could retract them, but he probably hadn't found out or wanted them out anyway.

"Oh!"

Her absorption ended abruptely when she bumped on someone with such violence that he other reflexively held her.

"I'm sorry!"

"It's alrigh-...Wendy? Wendy Testaburger?"

Wendy definitely went back to the offline present when the person spoke to her. It was a young man who seemed a bit older than her, with a blond, classy comb over, someone who evidently went to the gym on a regular basis and had money to pay a really expensive shirt. Wendy thought of one of these gallants from cheap romantic novels. She didn't know someone with so much class. There were a few kids from school she hadn't seen since they graduated, but she couldn't believe that Kevin Stoley or DogPoo had changed so, so much with the years.

"I...sorry, I don't know who..." Wendy took a step backwards.

The man smiled and got closer to her. What was he doing? Whispering in her ear?

Yes, that was what he did, with such a sweet voice that Wendy couldn't feel upset.

". _..And when you all get shot / And cannot carry on / Though you die, la Resistance lives on..._ "

Wendy's heart skipped a beat. Her face made the blond chuckle.

"Gregory!"

"It's been a long time, right?"

"I...wow, I didn't recognize you!"

"But I did. You don't look that different, but...You are a woman now and your hair is much shorter—it suits you good."

"This is a surprise! How have you been? I haven't seen you since..."

"Since you told me to get fucked in the ear." Gregory pronounced those words with a rigid smile.

"Uh...I'm really sorry about that, I-"

"It's alright. It happened a long time ago. We were children. There is no need to hold grudges. I would like to apologize too. I was very unfair to your, ahem, friend Stan. How is he?"

"...Honestly, I don't care how he is." Wendy frowned, looking away.

"Oh. I thought you were..."

"Were. That's right."

"Do you want to have a walk and talk about it?"

Wendy doubted for a few seconds.

"Well, alright. I have nothing to do right now."

Gregory...Oh, she should have known. He was the only child in that town who had class and she should have known that he would have had it as an adult. The more she looked at him, the more convinced she was that he had not changed a little bit. He still had that arrogant look, the porcelain-like skin and his years in the town hadn't contaminated his English accent. There was a new trait she noticed: a soft vanilla cologne—she didn't remember Gregory wearing any cologne when they were children and it was a nice addition.

"What have you been doing?" Gregory asked her.

"Well, I went to college. I studied Women's Studies but it...well, I didn't like it much, so I dropped it after a year and started Politics."

"I am also studying a Politics degree."

"Are you? Well, this is a coincidence!"

"It really is! Do you want an ice cream?"

"Oh, yes, please, it's so hot in here."

"What flavor do you want it?"

"Chocolate."

"Good morning, a chocolate for the lady and a strawberry for me. Thank you. There you go."

"Thank you." Wendy took a pause to give the scoop a try. "You know, I don't think I've seen you around at school."

"That's because my parents did not think that the level of education in that centre was adequate for me, so they tranferred me to a private school. It was quite a change, for the better, I mean."

"Well, I can't complain about the school. If you know how to study on your own..."

"I remember you being one of the few who had a genuine interest in learning. Maturity, too."

"Oh, yes, but I guess that gave me more troubles than benefits."

"Does that have something to do with Stan?"

"Yes...It was fine while it lasted, but recently, he proved that I was the mature one in the couple so...We didn't break up formally but we are definitely not together anymore."

"I am really, really sorry about it. Please, forgive me if I touched a sore spot. I didn't know."

"You don't have to apologize. I need to talk about it, right? It won't do me good to swallow everything."

"Of course."

"And...what about you? Do you have a girlfriend or a boyfriend?"

"No, no boyfriends. I did have a few girlfriends, but it did not end well, either. The ladies I have met have been disappointingly shallow."

"I guess it's just a matter of time. You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you get the prince. Or princess, in your case. That's what they say."

"True. Well, at least I made a bit of progress. It was a pleasant accident meeting you again."

Wendy smirked, taking a bite.

"We were children, Gregory. You had loquacity and I found that lovely."

"So I've lost my charm now?"

Wendy looked away, her grin widening. "I never said that."

Gregory chuckled, licking the ice cream from his lips.

"Do you know that I was so terribly jealous of Stan? Yes, seeing you soaked in each other's vomit, looking at each other with loving eyes, that hurt me deeply. I guess I can tell you this now, but, back then, I hoped that there could come a day when I would call you mine."

"Really?"

"Yes. I was in love with you." Gregory tossed the empty tub in a trash can and looked at her. "...As you said, we were children. Although the war was not a joke, we were playing heroes. Me too. I thought I could save the day and get the girl."

Wendy looked away and just kept walking. For a while none of them said anything, just taking that walk.

Then, Wendy handed Gregory a napkin. The young man saw that there was something written on it.

"My phone number. It will be nice to remember the old times."


	10. Chaos always catches up with you

Butters pulled the chain and, while washing his hands, he looked at himself in the mirror. He was twenty-one but everybody said that he looked much younger, no more than sixteen. There was barely any difference between the boy he was and the young adult he was now. His voice was still higher-pitched than it was common in men his age. He had had an edgier and more modern haircut but he still gave off that timid demeanor. Beardless and a bit effeminate, some people said, which played against him, because that timid attitude seemed to awaken tenderness in not few ladies. He always wished puberty had gave him a deeper voice, more muscles and a bit of hair, because this way he felt as if he was still a child. Someone how couldn't take care of himself and needed tutoring.

But that was just his looks, right? He was still an adult. He could take care of himself and his make his own decisions. It was just a matter of attitude.

Yes, that was it. He didn't have to wish to be different. He just had to behave like he was an adult, instead of wishing he looked like one.

Determined to change the way things were, Butters decided that he would face his father that day.

He walked out from the bathroom and made his way to the living room. Going down the stairs, he saw his father sat on the couch, watching the television with a beer in his hand. He seemed calm. Also, the accident had made him act softer towards him. It was now or never.

"Dad..."

"Yes?" Mr. Stotch seemed a bit upset that he was interrupting his program.

"I have to tell you something."

"Are you gay?"

"Hm. No."

"Ah." Mr. Stotch was still looking at the television. He took a sip.

Butters felt the urge to leave the matter there, forget about it. There was this horrible feeling inside of his chest, telling him to forget about growing some balls and preserve his integrity. But he fought against it. Like if he was in front of a cold swimming pool, he took deep breath and just jumped.

"I don't want to go back to college."

Silence. Mr. Stotch slowly turned towards Butters. Oh, gosh, he looked like he was eating his soul somehow. Then, his father clicked his tongue and looked back at the television.

"Don't say nonsense, son."

"It's not nonsense." Butters forced himself to talk, even if he was just babbling. He squeezed his fists to fight the urge to run away. "I'm serious. I...I don't want to be a doctor, dad."

Mr. Stotch looked at Butters again. This time, he switched off the television and turned his body towards him, not getting up.

"Ah. You don't want to be a doctor now."

Truth be told, Butters didn't remember wanting to be a doctor when he grew up. All he knew was that his parents had proposed him a few options and the one which pleased Butters the most was Medicine.

"...No...I...It's too difficult to me."

"Maybe you just need to study harder." his father said that with such a bitter voice that Butter felt ashamed.

"I can't be good at something I don't like."

"You can. Do you think being locked up in an office from 8 to 5 is the dream of my life? Welcome to real life: people have to do things they don't like if they want to eat. Do you have any idea of how much your studies are costing us?"

"I know, but...I don't know...I...I don't feel like this is what I want to do with my life..."

"And what do you want to do, huh? Have fun all the time and never worry about anything? That's a sweet life indeed!"

"I think I just need a little bit of time to figure out what to do. Like a sabbatical year, like Timmy's doing. It wouldn't have to be a year, just a couple of months would do, or-"

"I don't care what Timmy does. You are my son." Mr. Stotch stood up and walked to Butters. In spite of Butters being taller, he was the one how emanated authority. "You won't get a proper job if you don't go to college."

"Well, nobody knows, uh..."

"This is what I feared. All those bad influences. You shouldn't have come here to spend the summer."

"Dad, this is my life, okay, and-" Butters raised his voice, making his mother get out from the kitchen to see what was happening.

"Don't raise your voice to me, Butters! Everytime you come to South Park, your behavior turns awful and you disobey me and your mother!"

"This has nothing to do with my friends! I am just tired of trying and trying, of having to do something I don't like and feeling miserable because I'm supposed to study a career!"

"We told you to study a career because we want you to have a future!"

"Dad..."

"Shut up! I haven't finished! You think you can do what you want because you're twenty-one, but you're still living under my roof, I am paying your studies and whims, and I think I have the right to have a say in the matter!"

"You always have to have a say in the matter..." Butters frowned, speaking in a low voice.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that, Butters, I'm warning you. If you want to do what you want, why don't you just leave, huh? Get a house of your own, pay the rent, the food, the bills, handle everything on your own. That's what you want, huh? Do everything you want and not having to listen to your parents' advice."

"It is not advice."

"I'd love to know how you would manage alone, with just your high school studies, no money. But alright, go ahead, you are so smart, so independent."

"Dad."

"Butters, please, listen to your father." Mrs. Stotch reprimanded her son.

"Have you seen, Linda? Have you seen how ungrateful this little brat is? He should be thankful to be in college and to have parents who care about his future, and what does he do? He-"

Butters just wanted to punch his father in the stomach. Just that, a punch. He did not expect his fist to go through the skin and reach the insides, nor that violent jolt.

His mother screamed out of her lungs, with her hands covering her face.

For several seconds, Butters did not move. All he could do was look at his father's face. The shock in his face, but no more emotion, because he saw in his eyes that he was dead. The spasms that shook his body gently. Then, he pushed the body with his free hand, because he felt the other was too deep inside of his father's chest. Mr. Stotch fell to the floor and his wife fell by his side to shake him, not able to scream something coherent.

Butters looked at his hand, full of blood.

Sparks. And when he saw them, he felt as if more appeared. It didn't hurt, but tickled in a funny way.

"Mom."

She looked at him and stood up with difficulty. What was she screaming? Leopold? Butters? You killed your father, Butters? What have you done, Butters? He was not sure. It was hard to understand her. She wasn't even taking a second to breath.

"Mom. Shut up."

But she was still yelling. It was hurting his ears.

" **Mom, shut the fuck up!** "

There was a flash and Mrs. Stotch was propelled backwards with such violence that she hit the wall. She did not get up from the floor.

Butters approached and checked her pulse. Her heart was not beating. It was funny how he felt nothing in that moment.

He looked at her and then back at his father. His lips curved into a smile. He even chuckled softly.

He felt like new now. His mind seemed to be working better than before, as if some kind of mental fog had disappeared. He saw things in a new light and finally knew what he had to do.

Slowly, he walked towards the basement. Half an hour later, he returned to the living room just to walk out of the house, not looking at the corpses which were lying right where he left them. He did not close the door behind him.

That is how Liane Cartman knew that something was wrong.

It was not her intention to gossip but she had observed that the neighbors had had their front door open for the whole day. No sound came from the house and no one came in or out. Fearing that someone had burglared their house, she approached to take a look. Her screams made Cartman run. He had two things to do: one was calling the police because his mother was too hysterical to do anything; the other was to write a text to all those involved in the accident at the fair.

That night, when it was almost time to sit at the dinner table, all of them got the same message: [The Stotches have been killed. Butter's missing]. Cartman was sick enough to include a photo he had taken with his phone.


	11. Mysterion rises again

_"This little mountain town's been shaken by the news of the murder of Stephen and Linda Stotch. It happened around lunch time, in such a beautiful day that it is hard to believe that something so gruesome happened. Nobody heard a thing, nobody saw anything. No one, not even the police, knows what to think. There are so many elements that simply don't connect: the son is missing; no money or any valuable object has been stolen; it was impossible to determine the weapon used to kill the victims; the entrances to the house hadn't been forced. The police, as soon as the Stotches left the morgue to be buried, started arresting suspects, all of them Latin and black citizens, performed intense interrogations, sometimes going too far but it did not seem to help the investigation. As I said, nobody saw a thing._

 _Since there's no news about the whereabouts of Leopold Stotch, the South Parkers have made their own hypotheses. People like to talk and fill the gaps. Some say those robbers killed the parents and trafficked with his young, healthy organs. Others are sure that he has been kidnapped and soon the family—if there is someone left—will get blackmail._

 _Very little people here think that perhaps Butters had something to do with his parent's homicide. How could such a nice boy do something so horrible? No, not him. Impossible. He adored his parents. It was mean to merely suspect of him._

 _But we knew it. From the very moment we knew what had happened, we understood that Butters had killed his parents. He did have powers too and the first thing he did with them was killing his mother and father. Most wanted to believe that it was an accident, but I don't think so. I knew Mr. Stotch. He was one big douchebag. Of course, if Butters had actual powers, he would make him pay for all the unfair groundings and humilliations._

 _We decided to devote ourselves to find him and try to help him. Honestly? I don't think he needs or even wants help. That guy must be a freaking walking bomb right now, ready to explode in the face of those who touch the wrong buttons. The gang doesn't want to admit it but they are scared. Scared that their friend has become a murderer. Scared that they do something monstruous too. Kyle is more and more self-enclosed—all of this has convinced him that he got cursed and he must hide if he doesn't want to hurt anybody he loves. Scott too. He is so afraid of suffering a new diabetic attack that he is barely eating anything at all. He's dealt with his disease all his life, he knows perfectly what to eat or drink, but it so scared about a new accident that he refuses to take any risks. Cartman thinks they are being sissies. I understand them._

 _I have been carrying a real curse since the day I was born. I know what to do and I am not afraid._

 _My parents are sleeping at this time, after drinking lots of booze tonight; I can hear them snoring in their bedroom. Karen works part-time in a bar to pay her courses and will be back in an hour. Kevin still has to be in jail for three more weeks. It is time for me to open the wardrobe, put the everyday clothes aside and grab what's hiding inside the hole in its bottom._

 _Many things have happened these years. I dropped school by the time my voice started to crack. I wasn't taking advantage of it; the money my family spent on my studies was better invested on Karen's—she does want to study and has the brains to actually do something with that knowledge. I never cared about being somebody. I didn't care if I never got to be an astronaut, a movie star or a CEO. Those are things kids dream, and reality hit me in the face soon enough. I just aspired to have a job or do something that would allow me to help paying the bills and have a drink from time to time. The life my parents had before me. Not the American Dream, but not all of us can be Nobel Prizes. There has to be someone folks can compare to and feel better about their own lives—the Germans have a word for that, but I can't pronounce it. That's me, and I don't complain._

 _There are many ways in which one can contribute to society. At day, I am the guy who breaks his back unloading trucks because he didn't study. At night, I am the shadow that keeps this trash town peaceful._

 _It is one of those little things I didn't renounce to when I grew up. I just had to use more and more fabric as my body changed, but I am still the same. Mysterion never died, because this town was always in need for him. If I had to leave it to the police, we'd all be screwed. They can't even find Butters._

 _But I will._

 _I sneak out of the house like the wind. I use the hole in my room to get out—I covered it with a big mandala tapestry I found in the church. It makes my room look like a hippie smocking den, I don't really like it, but there had to be something in there. Nobody noticed a thing._

 _I'm back to these dark streets. This part of the town is silent, an I don't make a single noise. I am about to fuse with the shadows when I notice someone coming, and I hide._

 _Karen is back. It seems she got to finish her shift sooner. It's a good thing I heard her coming, because I don't want her to see me tonight. Still, I stay there, seeming like one more piece of junk in the grass, and watch her as she comes into the house, trying not to wake anyone up. I regret not having followed her tonight, as I do some days. I can't help feeling worried every time she goes out at night. Very little towns are safe when the sun goes down—it is like all the monsters come out at that time. She is seventeen and grew up to be quite a beauty, one of those naïve-looking girls that look younger than they really are and awake the worst instincts of the worst people. I know we taught her how to deal with that garbage and go back home safely, but I can't help it. I am never at peace until I hear the door close. Since her body started developing, I've seen too many guys looking at her in a way that would make any decent brother furious. It is one of the reasons why I couldn't let Mysterion die. For her, and the other young girls in South Park._

 _Once I see there is light in her room, I go back to my mission._

 _This time, I don't have to deal with any muggers, or rapists or drug dealers. There is something more important than that. I had access to the Stotches' autopsy, I saw that picture Cartman managed to take before the police came. Butters is now very dangerous, more than all those people together. I don't think he can control his abilities—perhaps he does, but that doesn't make me feel better either. I wish I could know what's in his head. I wouldn't like to have to kill him."_


	12. Christmas miracle in July

The scent was tickling Kyle's nose. He grabbed the bottle and read. Roses? There was no way those bath salts smelt of roses. Perhaps roses which had been in Cartman's ass for a while—but, again, that bottle had been there for like seven years. Who knew if he didn't step out of the bathtub with his body full of weal.

Anyway, Kyle wasn't worried about that. He just closed his eyes and tried to relax. That was all he needed. Relax. Stop thinking about all that power matter, even if it was just for a while. His sanity needed that.

 _"Howdy ho!~"_

Kyle's opened his eyes and raised his head. Of course, the bathroom was empty. Only the sound of the drops of water falling from the tap of the bathtub were heard. Unless...

"...Timmy? Is that you?" he asked in a sotto voice.

But he did not reply. Also, when he thought about it, that was not Timmy's voice. It was much higher pitched.

 _"Howdy ho!~"_

The toilet lid was shaking. Kyle stood up and walked to it. He didn't know if it was a good idea, but he decided to open and see what was trying to get in. He didn't have time to reach it before what was inside the toilet managed to push the lid and come out.

"Howdy ho, Kyle!"

Kyle's concern turned immediately into happiness.

"Mr. Hankey!"

The poop was obviously glad to see him too, because it jumped to his chest and there he stayed, hugging him, ruining his clean, perfumed skin. Kyle didn't mind, because he carefully embraced him too.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited you in a long while, Kyle."

"It's okay, Mr. Hankey. I'm so glad to see you." Kyle smiled, as he quickly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist.

Some bonds never break and Mr. Hankey was one of those friends who were always there, seeing Kyle become a man. So many years had passed and Kyle was as excited to see him as he was when he was a little boy. Even with his studies, work and relationships, Kyle always had time to go to the bathroom or pass by a drain and say hi.

"Me too. How have you been doing these last months? Hope you didn't get in too much trouble!"

"Haha, no."

Kyle didn't note it, but it seemed he hadn't said this with a very convincing voice, because Mr. Hankey's smile faded a bit and looked at him with interest.

"What's wrong, Kyle?"

Kyle carefully placed him on the cistern.

"Nothing..."

"Aww, Kyle, don't you trust your old friend now?"

"Sure I trust you, Mr. Hankey. It's just that...I don't know if you will believe me."

"Kyle, I am a talking piece of shit. I think I can believe anything."

"...Let's just say that I am not who I used to be."

"Well, I see you are a bit taller and you didn't have that goatee the last time I saw you."

"I don't mean physically. Well, yes, in a way, yes, but..."

"I don't understand."

"I found out I can do things that...well...I can hurt people with them."

"I really can't see you hurting anybody, Kyle." Mr. Hankey's sweet smile returned.

"I don't want to hurt anybody. But I feel like I won't be able to control myself."

"Kyle, did you have an accident that modified your DNA?"

"Sort of...No, wait, that's exactly what happened."

"Kyle, listen to me."

Kyle placed himself on his knees to listen to the poop.

"Closer."

Kyle leaned forward, almost touching Mr. Hankey with the tip of his nose. He raised a hand to touch his cheek in a reassuring way.

"You don't need to explain anything to me. I see that, whatever happened, it is big. But remember this: no matter what happens, you are still Kyle Broflovski, a good boy."

"I...don't see how that helps, but thanks."

"You're welcome. I have to go now."

"Wait! So soon?"

"Yes, I left the oven on. Yes, we do have ovens down in the sewer. I just wanted to check on you and say hello. I promise one of these days I'll come back and I'll stay for a bit longer—if you promise you'll tell me all about it."

"Sure."

"But I won't come back unless you do a little thing for me."

"What is it, Mr. Hankey?"

"Smile. You look so handsome when you smile."

That was enough to make Kyle's lips curve.

"That's much better." Mr. Hankey opened the toilet lid. "Remember, Kyle: no problem is that big. It all depends on the way you face them. And now I say byee~"

The piece of poo slid into the water of the toilet and Kyle watched it disappear.

"...Bye, Mr. Hankey."

There he stayed, watching the toilet water, for a while. Then, he stood up.

He washed the crap out of his body, dried himself hurriedlyand left the bathroom.

He ran to the backyard. Ike was recording a gameplay, so he would be absent from the real world for some hours. His father was working and his mother had just gone to the grocery store. He had some time to practice alone.

Just the thought of that made Kyle feel nervous. The first and only time he had used his lasers went so bad that his body felt sick just thinking that he would go through that again. But he forced himself to do it. Mr. Hankey was right. After all, it was an accident. He didn't mean to hurt his friend. He was still Kyle Broflovski, a sane person. He left his father's sunglasses tucked into his shirt and focused on something. That branch of the tree in front of him would do.

Focus. That was all he needed. He was mad at Cartman when he discovered his power—now that he was not there, he was at peace, he had the disposition to try.

After quickly commending himself to Yahweh, he let it happen.

"Lasers!"

That flash again. Kyle jumped backwards. He had missed the shot because it had took him by surprise, but he could still try again. He had this new feeling, confidence, inside of him, and he would take the most of it.

This time, he didn't open his mouth, but focused on making it happen just by thinking of it.

It was easier than he expected. He just had to look at his objective and _want_ the lasers to show up. He just had to picture it in his mind and the branch fell to the ground, its tip looking burnt.

Kyle looked around him. Ike was still with his headphones on, insulting at some fictional character. The neighbors didn't seem to notice anything. Everything was quiet and he didn't see any face around looking at him. He smiled. _"Thank you, Mr. Hankey. I really needed that."_

* * *

Clyde was using a flyer someone had given him in the street as a fan. He was still using a coat to cover his wings, and it was very hot with that thing on, but t was better to sacrifice himself than let anybody see them.

"Did Kyle tell you what he wants from us?" he asked his partner.

Scott just shrugged.

They didn't have to wait much longer for Kyle to come. He didn't wear those ridiculous shades this time.

"Sorry I made you wait."

"What's wrong? Do you know something about Butters?" Clyde asked.

"No, but I wanted to tell you guys something. This week's been really shitty for us, right? Right. The others simply can't understand what we feel. We don't have pretty powers like them, we can't control them."

"Don't tell me you figured out a way to get rid of this." Clyde's eyes opened wide with hope, and it was almost painful to Kyle to disappoint him.

"No, but I think I know how to deal with it. Containing it will only make us miserable, and who knows if it makes it worse. I...want you to let it free."

"Are you crazy?!" Scott exclaimed.

"No, no, no!" Clyde moved a few steps away from Kyle, shaking his hands. "No way."

"I almost hurt Wendy and Token, Kyle, I can't let it happen again!"

"Please, please, guys, listen. We have to do this. We can't let these powers define what we are. It is still us. Scott, you never let diabetes ruin the fun to you. You are a great guy, I really can't see you doing any harm to anybody. If that happened, perhaps it was because you were scared, that was new to you, but now we know what it is about and we can help you. And Clyde, remember when your voice started changing, and the hair was in very weird places, and they called you Chewbacca at high school and it used to make you cry?"

"Thanks for reminding me. I totally needed that."

"But you still talked, you didn't hide!"

"Uhm, Kyle, this is quite different. It's something natural that a kid changes his voice and grows hair in weird places, but these wings...How am I supposed to get a date with these? I work with food, dude! How do you think I can go to work having these?"

"You see, when you showed them to us, I thought I had seen them moving inwards...Haven't you tried to make them go back inside your back?"

"No, that's crazy!"

"Everything that's happening to us is crazy! Go ahead, try!"

"What? Now?"

"Yes."

Clyde looked at his friends, then at the surroundings.

"Well, no one's around here." Scott noted.

"...Alright, alright. Let's get this over with, so you shut up and I can go back home..." Clyde gave up with a sigh.

He got rid of the coat and his shirt, handing them to Scott. Kyle noticed that the wings had some strange marks, like if they had been cut at the base, but never mentioned it.

Clyde closed his eyes firmly and then his face congested.

"Are you trying to use your wings or taking a dump?" Kyle couldn't help asking.

"I'm...trying!" Clyde protested, his face red.

"Hey, look! They moved!" Scott pointed at the wings.

"Yes, Clyde, they're moving!" Kyle joined him.

Perhaps he could...Nah, that was crazy. He was too heavy for that. But, on the other hand, those wings were pretty hard and long...Well, what the hell.

The bug wings started waving clumsily at first, but, thanks to Clyde's efforts, they seemed to find their way and began to flap at a considerable speed.

And then, Clyde felt that his feet were not touching the ground anymore.

"You got it, Clyde, you're floating!" Scott exclaimed.

"Yeah, I-I think this is going well...Wow, guys, hold my feet before I go too far!" Clyde was looking different now. He was smiling for the first time in days.

His friends did as he said and helped him put his feet back on the ground. He didn't know how to turn or go down with those. Once he was back to the ground, he tried a different thing. It was true that he had felt those wings moving in a weird way, but he hadn't paid much attention to that (it freaked him out so much that he only wanted to think about them to figure out a way to get rid of them). Now that he was starting to come to terms with the wings, he commanded them to hide. _"Come on. Back to my body. Something tells me you can. Then go. Go away."_

"Hey, it worked!" Scott pointed at his back.

"T-They're gone?" Clyde asked. Too bad he couldn't see it, as much as he tried.

To test it, Clyde concentrated on his wings and commanded them to come back. The wings slid out from his body and with a thought from Clyde, they went back to his inside.

"This...makes everything easier..."

"Aw, come on, Clyde, are you really going to cry now?"

"Yes!"

"Okay. Scott. It's your turn."

Scott swallowed.

"A-Are you sure about this? One thing is wings and another-"

"I was scared of the lasers too, but it's only a matter of will." Kyle assured him, walking to him and grabbing his hand to open it. "If you don't want to hurt anybody, you won't hurt anybody. Here. Eat this."

A handful of colorful candy was left in Scott's hand. The man looked at it as if those were grenades.

"...Okay, it's all a matter of will..." Scott said to himself. And put the candy in his mouth.

The mixture of strawberry, melon, lemon, coke and lime was really weird, but at least it served it purpose. The candy was going down his throat when he already felt the effects. It was as if someone had turned up the heater. That reminded him of the shirt he lost when he first transformed—he immediately took it off. Just in time to see how his chest expanded, as well as his arms.

"A-Are you sure this is a good idea?" Clyde looked at Kyle.

Kyle took deep breath. He hoped so. He took a step forward to his friend.

"Scott?"

The other looked at him. Damn, he wasn't taller but he definitely looked bigger. Those muscles had the size of a baby. He really didn't want to receive a punch from him.

Scott looked at him. His bloodshot eyes made Kyle shiver.

"Do you know who we are?" Kyle quietly asked him. Clyde had put out his wings, in case they needed to get away from there.

"Clyde and Kyle...Remember?"

Scott took a step forward.

" _I...remember..._ ", his voice was croaky, the kind of voice parents fake when they read the monster part to their children.

However, Scott was definitely not a monster. He looked at them with a tense but shy look that definitely made Clyde hide his wings and walk towards him with Kyle by his side. In an attempt to look as friendly, Scott gave the two of them a pat in their back, which almost made them fall to the ground.

" _Sorry._ "

"Don't worry about it. All of us need a bit of practice. Just that. Practice." Kyle looked at him and Clyde.

"Yeah. We can do this. Thanks, Kyle. I don't know what came over us." Clyde smiled.

"Don't thank me, it was Mr. Hankey the one who snapped me out of it. Do you feel well, Scott? Do you need the insulin?"

Scott just had two urges at the moment: break everything in his path—which he didn't do for precaution, being his friends present—and know who the hell was that Mr. Hankey.


	13. Shaken

_[Hey, Wendy. What's up?]_

 _[Hi, Clyde. Are you feeling better?]_

 _[Hell, I am. You're with Bebe right now, right? You think you can-?]_

Oh, Clyde...

 _[Sorry, Clyde, she's telling me about her weekend in a music festival with some Henry guy]_

"So you think I'm doing right?" Bebe asked Wendy, leaning forward. She probably interpreted Wendy's smile as a favorable sign.

"Go for it, girl" was Wendy's response.

Bebe grinned. Wendy couldn't smiling too, seeing how practical her new abilities were. It was easier to handle in and off-line conversations at the same time this way.

"And what about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, I've heard you're going out with some blond stud. Who is he? Do I know him?"

"I think you do. Remember Gregory of Yardale?"

"Wait, the one who organized that Resistance stuff during the war against Canada? That Gregory?"

"Yep, that Gregory."

"Well, this is a surprise. I hadn't seen that guy in a while!"

"Me too. We met by coincidence and started to talk. We've been talking about the past, the present..."

"Do you have a photo of him? Theresa told me about him, but we have different concepts about handsome guys."

Wendy's phone was already looking for his pictures before she even took it out from her pocket. She showed them to Bebe and Wendy could swear that she looked as if she was going to start howling, like that wolf from old cartoons.

"He's hot!" she exclaimed, her lips forming a wide O.

"And he's studying the same career as I do in a private university. It seems he's pretty rich, because I wouldn't be able to buy the clothes and watches he wears after saving a five lives' salary."

"Then what the hell are you waiting for?"

"Oh, please, Bebe, we are old friends who just got back in touch." Wendy stated, placing her phone back to its place.

"Sure, sure, that's why you look like a dumbass every time you talk about him. He's got money, he's got ideals, brains and after all these years he wants to get in touch with you. Say it, Wendy: you like him."

"...Well...I have to admit that...He's a dream come true."

"Girl, even I have a new dream now. Have you seen those biceps? If you're not going to do anything, I will, I'm warning you."

"Go ahead, I don't care."

"Please, Wendy, look at yourself. You're blushing. Admit it. You like him. If I touched him, you'd tear me apart or wish I was ran over by a truck. Don't lie to me."

Wendy sighed.

"If I tell you that I like him, will you shut up?"

"Yup."

"Then, okay. I like him."

"That's better."

"But telling him—that's a different story."

"Is it because of Stan? You still wanna go back with him?"

"No. Stan can go die in a hole."

"Just asking. If you're not hoping to go back with him and you like this guy very much, what's the problem? Doesn't he like you back?"

"Well...We've been talking about the old, good times we had, still have meaningful and interesting conversations...He told me he liked me a lot and was jealous that I chose Stan in the end. And now he's been there to listen to me and has been taking me to places. In spite of everything, we still have a lot in common. It is unbelievable."

"Uhm...I hope you don't take this bad, but...You're a moron. He obviously likes you a lot. Like, it's even shameless how he's hitting on you."

"Do you think so? He may just be an old friend who-"

"Bullshit! Wendy. I'm warning you. If you don't take this chance, I will never speak to you again."

Wendy sighed with a little smile.

"Well...I deserve to be happy, don't I?"

"Sure you do." Bebe nodded, grabbing her hand to caress it.

Unnoticed by them, Tweek passed by, carrying a cloth to clean the tables with. He immediately placed it on the counter and grabbed his phone.

Maybe he was poking his nose where it wasn't welcome, but Stan had to know this.

* * *

Stan didn't say goodbye or thanks to Tweek before cutting the call. Why would he say thank you anyway? For leaving him like that?

He knew this would happen. It was just a matter of time. First Scott, now that guy.

But why that guy? Gregory? Fucking Gregory? He was missing all those years and now came back to get Wendy? He didn't understand. Was he waiting for something like this to happen?

He didn't want to think about it—oh, but he would. He would think about what Tweek had told him all day, all night, all that week.

He deserved that. Coward. Stupid coward.

* * *

It wasn't the White House, but it was a nice job. He got to see free movies and get ideas to start projects of his own. He was alone, so no one bothered him. Not that he was well-paid, but it was enough. Up there, Dougie could also see some interesting stuff. Not that night though: the movie was a flop and it was the last pass, so he was projecting for just one guy, and it looked to him that he came to masturbate with Jennifer Lawrence. He didn't say anything, because it was the usher's problem. And it was fun to see people making out, throwing popcorn to the screen, yelling at the characters as if they were going to hear them or, like that guy, touching themselves. It made the job entertaining.

Dougie turned around all of a sudden.

He was not alone in his room. There was someone behind him, with their back leaning on the wall, their arms crossed.

He had seen that person in the newspapers and the news. Mysterion.

"Even vigilantes like to go to the movies from time to time, huh?" It was almost incredible to him how little he cared about his presence.

Mysterion didn't reply immediately. He didn't even move.

"Have you seen Butters lately?"

"Butters? No. If I had, I would have called the news. Everyone's looking for him. They'd pay me well for the story."

"Has he tried to contact you?"

"What makes you think he would?"

"You and him have the same twisted mind."

"Are you talking about those times when we played we were agents of chaos?" Dougie chuckled. "We were little kids. The big boys didn't want to play with us, so we were angry, and we thought the best way to let all that anger out was to be supervillains."

His glasses were fogging up, so he removed them and cleaned them with his shirt.

"We were kids." he insisted.

Mysterion did not reply.

"Are you going to arrest me for being a bad boy?"

"No." Mysterion finally moved towards him. Man, that man had defined muscles. He must have punched lots of people. "But something tells me you know where he is hiding."

"Why should I know?"

"You and him have been in touch these last years."

"Yeah. As I said, our friends didn't always mind if we were sad, happy, or even dead sometimes, so we had each other to vent. Just a little Skype chat now and then. Not that we were besties. I wasn't even able to do anything about all the shit Butters kept inside."

"Did you know what was going to happen?"

"Do you mean his parents' murder? No. I never thought the would actually do it. But I can't say I'm surprised either. They were assholes. My mother taught me not to talk shit about people who have died, but it's the plain truth: they were assholes. Butters was fed up. He needed help and never got it, so he became more and more like a pressure cooker. One more thing and..."

Silence. Dougie decided that he didn't want his long, ginger curly hair tied, so he let it free. It reached his lower back.

"Listen. I want no trouble. I would never hide that psycho. I swear."

"I don't know if I can believe you."

"Trust me, all that chaos crap was cool when I was a child but now I don't think it's sensible to collaborate with a madman. If I see something, I'll tell you. Okay?"

"If you see something, I will know."

With that, Mysterion walked away. He didn't get out from the room in a fancy way, but just opened the door and left. Dougie followed. There was no one in the corridor.

He went back to the room, closing the door. He turned around and watched the projector.

"You fucked up really well."

By some empty cardboard boxes, where the dim light of the lightbulb didn't reach, another person chuckled softly.

"Now Mysterion's behind me." Dougie continued, still checking how the screening was doing, not looking at the other.

"Are you afraid?"

"Nah. Just saying it's more trouble for you."

"On the contrary. This is just...perfect."

Dougie's partner stood up. A long cape swept the floor as he walked.

"I'm in the mood of some fun. Tonight you're going home sooner."

Dougie didn't want to know. Anyway, soon he saw what he meant.

Some cars passed but no one seemed to notice him. That night was so dark anyway, and that area had no functioning streetlights. He was like one more shadow.

He broke the rusty lock of the boX and opened it. He didn't need to remove his gloves but he did it. When he touched the wires, he felt nothing but that sweet tickle—he enjoyed that so much. A smile appeared in his face and widened as he made it happen. The wires started to spark. Soon, a burning smell came to his nose. Any sensible citizen would have ran away from that box before it exploded, but he didn't. He wasn't feeling any pain. This was being so pleasant. The whole post was shaking. Sparks were also covering the long wires which connected to the next post. His smile widened until he showed his teeth. There was a flash, then another. And, then, darkness fell upon South Park.


	14. Wild days and nights

South Park had to go to bed without electricity and the morning after found that there was still none. Many people had worked during the night to try and bring it back, but it seemed the problem was not as easy as it first seemed—a short circuit, the messiest they had ever witnessed, had practically melted the wires. The origin was in an electricity box out of town which, after a careful examination, was declared inoperative, more than that, it was a complete wreck which couldn't even be used as scrap metal. First hypotheses tried to explain this as a consequence of an electric storm, as absurd as it was, because that night the skies had been completely clear. The other option was a malfunction, but it was also very improbable that a device could leave a whole town without electricity. Whatever the origin was, it was incredibly powerful.

Hells Pass Hospital was desperate for help: they had a generator, but it could only provide them for a few hours. Without the proper equipment, the patients' condition was worsening, some had died. Practically no store could function and the South Parkers feared they wouldn't get their electricity any sooner.

Those implied in the summer fair accident did not take a break during this time. They were all called by Token to gather at U-Stor-It, one of the few spots in South Park which managed to function in spite of the blackout, to open what he called their 'practice room', but Wendy saw more of a 'safe space'.

He had rented the biggest unit available, thinking that they could use a space where they could use their powers without having to worry about attracting anybody's attention. There was plenty of space there for everybody and its walls had been conditioned in order to suffocate the sound.

"Wow, you di-didn't have to do this, m-man. It must have c-costed you a fortune." Jimmy whistled, looking at the tall ceilings.

"Not that much." Token replied. "If it helps us control our abilities, it will be worth it."

Unfortunately, not all of them had so much money to spend on storage units. Kenny had to leave soon to work.

"But the town's paralyzed, what are you going to do?" Kyle asked him.

"I have a bachelorette party tonight and I gotta practice my moves." Kenny explained.

"...Oh. Uhm...Have fun?"

"Thanks, man. Have a good time, guys. See you. Oh, sorry, Timmy."

Scott was following Kenny with his eyes when he almost bumped on Timmy. He wouldn't have noticed anything if it wasn't for it.

"Geez, Timmy, what happened to you? Are you alright?"

Timmy had his nose swollen and red. In fact, his hip and right elbow showed much more worrying bruises, but Scott didn't notice and Timmy didn't mention them. With a small smile, he shrugged.

 _["I had an accident during the outage—I didn't see the stairs and I fell."]_

"That's too bad, you could have broken your head!"

 _["It's perfectly fine, don't worry. Thanks for your concern, though."]_ , with that said, Timmy drove away.

"Uhm, Tweek, could you come here for a second?"

"For you, and here's one for Scott, with no sug-Oh! I'm coming, Wendy!" Tweek was sharing out the buns he had made himself that morning when Wendy called. He gave the box to Clyde and went to her encounter.

Wendy approached him to talk to him close, in a low voice and with a tiny smile.

"I know you told Stan about my relationship with Gregory."

Tweek paled. He opened his mouth, trying to explain himself, when Wendy interrupted him.

"Don't worry. In fact, I wanted to thank you."

She said that glancing at Stan with such malice that Stan couldn't contain himself and walked to them.

"What are you saying to him? It doesn't matter if he told me: everyone's seen you with Gregory."

"Is there a problem with that? When you ghosted me, I took for granted that I was free to do what I want." Wendy crossed her arms.

"Weren't you with Scott, in the first place?"

"For your information, people can change partners. And I never said I was dating Gregory. We are just talk-Oh, wait, why am I giving you explanations? You were not that considerate to me."

Stan took a step forward, almost angered. "I...!"

"Yes, Stan? Do you have anything to say about the way I live my life?"

"...You're having a great time doing this to me, aren't you?" Stan muttered.

"I really don't know what you're talking about."

"You know what I'm talking about. Well, alright. Have fun. Go out with Scott, Gregory, Francis, Bill Allen, PC Principal or Kanye West's second cousin. It's none of my business."

"Right! It's not!" Wendy snapped.

"Then stop rubbing it in my face!"

"You, you, always you!"

Snorting, Stan stomped away to the farthest corner, while Wendy, mumbling insults and sighing with annoyance, took the opposite route. Tweek stayed where he was, looking at both of them. Craig came to him and wrapped his arms around him.

"I fucked up..." Tweek bit his under lip.

"You fucked up. But I still love you." Craig kissed his jaw. He supposed that should have comforted him, but it didn't.

"Serves me right for trying to help a friend. I learned the lesson, alright: never do anything for anybody."

"Don't think about it, babe: think about our future."

"How far?"

"Not too far. You and I, alone, in the beach. What beaches do you prefer? Spain? France? Greece?"

"Travelling by plane stresses me...I'd rather stay in the US."

"Well, alright, we won't leave the country, then. Much cheaper. In that case, what about California or Florida?" Craig left a few kisses under Tweek's ear, which made him smile. His words were taking effect, it seemed.

"Anywhere sunny and away from the mountains...Only you and I..."

"Chilling."

"Yeah, chilling..."

Craig suffered then a sudden convulsion. Too chill! His arms were freezing!

He hurriedly stepped away from his fiancé and Tweek looked at his chest. He also felt it. His skin was covered with a fine layer of frost. He gasped, attracting everyone's attention.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?! WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"Uh...Easy, easy, Tweek." Craig tried to comfort him.

"NO WAY! CALM DOWN?! SERIOUSLY?! I WAS SUPPOSED TO HEAL, SO WHAT'S THE MEANING OF THIS?! WHERE DID ALL THIS ICE COME FROM?! CRAIG! I CAN'T HANDLE ONE SINGLE POWER! THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR MY BRAIN!"

" _I'll slap him, that's what one has to do in these cases!_ " Scott had eaten a lollipop and was now transformed, ready to test his might. He offered himself to calm Tweek down, taking a few steps towards him, but was stopped by Token.

"Don't."

" _But-_ "

"Don't."

"C-Can't you calm him down a little bit with your mental powers, Tim-Tim?" Jimmy asked Timmy.

 _["I'm afraid not, I can only communicate telepathically."]_ his friend replied.

"Okay, sit here and breathe. Breathe, dammit!" Craig held Tweek.

"DON'T YOU SEE I'M FUCKING BREATHING, YOU ASSHOLE?!" Tweek yelled at him.

"If I didn't know him well, I'd say he's on his period." Cartman crossed his arms.

"What are you even doing here, Cartman? You don't have powers!" Wendy faced him.

"Hey, Craig doesn't have them either and here he is!"

"He surely has powers-"

"No, I don't have any powers and I don't care!"

"-He just needs time and...Just leave us alone!" Wendy had no time to waste on that plump jerk anyway, so she just sat on the floor in a corner, far away from him, closed her eyes and seemed to fall into a meditating state.

"I'm telling you, she _is_ on her period." Cartman turned towards Kyle and Stan.

"Shut up, fatass." Kyle discreetly pointed at Stan.

But Stan didn't need anything else to increase his bad mood: he was already pretty sour. In order to give himself a break, he opened the toolbox he had grabbed from the garage of his house and examined some of the tools inside. After a moment of study, he finally grabbed the hammer and the drill.

"That was a sweet idea." Cartman mocked him. "You bring a drill and there's no electricity to make it work."

"Shut up, I want to try something."

It was weird how his powers worked, apparently, so he needed to work on them.

The hammer, for instance. He wielded it and didn't feel what he felt when he first grabbed that screwdriver in Crunchy's Micro Brew, although there was still something about it.

 _"Come on, do something."_

And something did happen: the hammer, as if repelled by some powerful force, escaped from his hand towards Token's head. He was quick enough to avoid the hit, using his hands as a barrier.

Another unexpected phenomenon occured: those squared lights which could be seen everytime Token teletransported appeared again and seemed to block the hammer's blow, deviating it to the ceiling, making a big hole in it.

"Jesus!" Clyde exclaimed.

"Careful, Stan! You almost left me headless!" Token exclaimed.

"Sorry, Token!" Stan apologized, clasping his hands.

Alright, no more hammers. Ever. He wasn't Thor. Hammers bad. No more hammers ever, ever again.

He hoped he was luckier with the drill. Cartman was right: without electricity it wouldn't work, right? But he had the feeling that he could actually do something with it, so he let his instincts guide him.

He held it in his arms, wrapping the wire around his arm and closed his eyes. This time he felt that warm sensation again. His friends witnessed how the drill started to glow.

Stan extended his arms and then, the flash. Stan could perceive it even with his eyes closed.

When he opened them, he saw nothing but his friends were all squeezed against the walls.

"What...did I just do?"

" I don't know, but don't do that again, okay?" Craig shook his black tank top. "Gee, dumbass..."

"Yeah, be careful, Stan, we just inaugurated this place." Kyle told his friend.

"Sorry, I..."

Stan stopped. The way Wendy looked at him, shaking her head as if he was some kind of stupid critter, made him heart sink. Perhaps that was the problem—having that issue in his head.

"Listen, I'm not in the mood for this. I'll just watch and eat Tweek's buns or...I guess I'd better leave."

"Okay, if you want to go, I'll go with you." Kyle said.

"I-I'm leaving too. I promised my dad I'd he-he-help him with the car." Jimmy walked to them.

"I'll stay." Cartman was absorbed watching how Clyde, above his head, was struggling to fly diagonally, using his arms as a support, shirtless.

"Come on, fatass, you have nothing to do here." Kyle grabbed him by the collar.

"Eh, I'm no fat! I'm retaining water!"

"Oh, leaving so soon? Okay, see you. You got the keys, right? You can come whenever you want." Token told them. Well, not all of them, Cartman thought: he hadn't given him a key.

"Bye, guys." Stan raised a hand to say goodbye.

Wendy opened an eye to see them leave but didn't open her mouth.

The sky was dyed orange—had they really spent so much time in there? It was a very nice time to spend outdoors, with a comfortable weather. Since there wasn't much to do without electricity, the South Park residents could at least sit in the open air and enjoy the last hours of the day. Because he wasn't in that much of a hurry, Jimmy had no problem walking at a normal pace with his friends.

"I heard Kenny wo-wo-worked at a strip club, but I had no idea he was actually a stripper."

"Oh, yeah, he's been doing a bit of everything: sewing thongs, guarding the entrance, tending the bar..." Stan nodded.

"Has any of you seen him work?"

"I got a video." Cartman stopped to show Jimmy a video he had in his pocket.

"...I gotta admit leather looks amazing on him."

"Yep." Kyle agreed.

"Wait, this perspective..."

"Ah, yeah, I paid for a lap just to record him." Cartman confessed, chuckling.

"Don't worry about your powers, Stan." Jimmy told Stan after a small pause. "This is s-shocking for all of us. It'll ta-ta-take us a while to get used to it."

"Well, you seem to be doing well with it." Kyle observed.

"Don't think it's that easy. Sometimes I ca-can't control my speed and I bump into stuff and...well...chicks don't enjoy as much as they did before."

"Oh. Sorry to hear that."

"It's alright."

"Don't you think it's amazing, guys?" Cartman spoke looking at the sky.

"Yeah, we should have died that night, not developed powers." Stan nodded.

"It reminds me of the old times, when we were kids and we used to play. Remember?"

"Barely." Kyle admitted.

"That happened a long time ago." Stan said. "But I do remember. Crazy times, those. What were we called? Freedom Pals?"

"...It was actually Coon and Friends."

"Ah."

A van stopped by their side. Stan recognized it immediately: it was his uncle's new vehicle. Jimbo had let him drive it the day he bought it. He had barely had it for a year and it already looked worn-out, dirty, veteran. Of course, it was decorated with hunting stickers.

"Hi, uncle Jimbo. Hi, Ned. What's up?"

No sond from the driver's seat. Ned, the one they were seeing, was gazing at them expressionless.

" _...It's coming right for us..._ "

"Hm?"

Ned finally moved and revealed what he was holding, where their gaze couldn't reach: a shotgun.

Not that it was unusual for them to use guns, but Ned placed the barrel on the window, aiming directly at the boys.

" _It's coming right for us!_ " his voice and Jimbo's was heard, speaking in unison, lifelessly.

And Ned pulled the trigger.

Fortunately, Jimmy reacted quickly and there was nothing for the bullets to get.

When they noticed, they were two streets away from that point, confused, scared.

"Dude, what was he doing?!" Cartman exclaimed, placing a hand on his heart.

"I-I don't know! Oh, my God!" Stan was dizzy enough for that lightning-fast trip, but what just happened made him feel about to faint.

"Why did your uncle and Ned try to shoot at us in the face?!" Kyle was turned into the direction they had come from.

"I have no idea! I...Perhaps it was some kind of PTSD attack or something? You saw Ned's face! You heard them! They were like robots!"

"Sorry, Stan, but I only know that Ned wasn't joking: you almost g-got your brains scattered all around the sidewalk." Jimmy said.

What was that about? That was what Stan wanted to know.

* * *

"...South Park looks better when it's engulfed in the dark..."

"Yeah...It should be like this forever..."

Since Pete bought that second-hand convertible Cadillac, the meeting place had changed. There, in the car, they didn't have to worry about anybody's mother or father bothering them. They had already discussed renting a house and get rid of those forever—it was a nice idea they were working on.

They were aware of the rumors about what they did in that car, and the four of them thought it was all bullshit. Orgies for Satanic purposes? Please! There, they did what they did any other night, in summer, autumn or winter: smoke, drink coffee, talk about macabre issues. They hadn't done anything like that when everybody else was experimenting with the bodies of their friends and their own, they were not going to do it now. Even if posers tried to make it look like a rebellious thing to do, it was still conformist crap. Oh, but what did they expect? The people in that town was so stupid.

In the dark, with the headlights out, the only light around was the ember of their cigarettes. One could look up and see the stars perfectly, though they didn't seem to be pretty interested in such a dull sight.

"...So...Do you want Chinese?"

Michael didn't reply. He stood straight and shook a tuft of his long hair away from his face.

"What the hell is that?"

The others looked in the direction he was pointing at. Yes, there were lights ahead of them, very close to where they were parked...but they couldn't say what they were exactly.

"The police again." Firkle snorted, preparing himself for what would come next: 'goodnight, lady and gentlemen, your driving license, you don't have any drugs, right? please step out of the car', or something of the sort.

"Wait. No. It's not the police." Michael muttered.

None of the four goths walked out of the car or moved once they were standing up.

They didn't see what was coming to them until they had it right in front of them and couldn't escape.


	15. The break

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait." Randy scratched his moustache. "...Jimbo and Ned...shot at you?"

"Yes! Just a while ago!" Stan assured him, at on an arm of the couch.

"We saw it! Ned aimed right at us!" Cartman added.

"Y-Yeah!" Jimmy nodded energically.

Sharon looked at her husband, evidently unsure of what to think. But since he looked even more confused than she was and the boys seemed really shaken up, she grabbed her cell phone and walked to a corner, careful not to bump into any of the candles she had filled the house with.

"You didn't piss your uncle off, right?" Randy asked Stan, his eyes narrowed in deep thought.

"Of course not, dad!"

"Sorry, but it is kinda hard for me to believe that they did such thing."

"Well, you'd better believe it, Mr. Marsh, because it's true. We were there." Kyle insisted. "Thank God they missed but they tried to kill us, they did!"

"But I just can't understand why! Why would my brother...?"

Someone knocked at the door. Sharon, being the closest, opened it with the phone still against her ear.

"Hello, Sharon! They didn't bring electricity back yet, huh?"

Sharon's eyes opened wide. The boys drew back to the other extreme of the living room, as if a ghost had come in. Jimbo and Ned took the liberty to come into the house, Jimbo showing a merry smile and Ned, as inexpressive as he had always been.

"Oh, officer, he is here! Come quick!" Sharon nervously examined them. They didn't seem to bring any guns with them, but she was sure they had brought something: one of those big hunting knives, some little gun.

"Huh?" Jimbo pointed at Sharon with the head like asking him what was wrong with her.

"Ah, just the two we were talking about..." Randy took a few steps towards them.

"Oh, yeah? I didn't call you before coming...or did I, Ned?"

Ned shook his head.

"We supposed you were at home and you wanted to have a drink...Did we come in a bad moment?"

"Stop pretending! Did you come to finish the job?!" Cartman faced Jimbo, raising an accusatory finger—but cautiously, of course: they still had guns.

"Huh?" Jimbo glanced at Ned.

"Get out of here, you psychos!" Kyle yelled.

"What are you talking about?!" Jimbo looked at everybody, all amusement in his face disappearing.

"These boys say that Ned shot at them just a while ago and you allowed it!" Randy said.

"What?!" Jimbo turned to his nephew, frowning. "Why did you say that about us?!"

"Y-You did shoot at us!" Jimmy accused him.

" _That's not true_." Ned defended himself.

"Of course not! I've been with Ned the whole day and he didn't shoot at anybody! We've been hunting boar, we just came back to town!" Jimbo placed his hand on Ned's shoulder for support. "We didn't see you kids today, don't make up stuff that's not true!"

"It's still four against two." Randy looked at his brother with severity.

"Come on, Randy!"

"No, come on Randy no. He's my son."

They knocked at the door again. Sharon opened quickly.

"Thank goodness you came so fast!"

"Are these the attackers?" before Jimbo could realize, he was pushed to a wall and his hands tied behind his back.

"Wha-? Wait! Are you serious?! Stan! What are you playing at?! Tell them you're lying! Tell them this is just a joke! You're just kidding your old uncle Jimbo!"

But the police officer was dragging him out of the house rudely and Stan's expression showed no signs of mockery.

"Why, you little piece shit! What the fuck did I do to you?!" Jimbo fought uselessly, because the policeman was assisted by a partner. "I'm gonna get even! This joke went too far!"

"Ah! Aaaargh!" Ned protested as he could, not able to reach his voice box to complain clearly.

It was hard because they put up resistance, but Jimbo and Ned were dragged out of the Marshes house into a police wagon that was parked next to the door. Nobody moved or said a thing, there was a dumbstruck silence. Stan couldn't even look up from the floor—it was painful enough to hear their screams.

"You will have to come to the police station to testify, do you understand?" Sergeant Yates said to the young men in the house. "Don't worry, we may not have electricity there at the moment but we can still keep those two locked away where they can't shoot any more people in the face. If everything goes right, electricity will come back soon and we'll be completely operational."

"That's good to hear. Thank you for coming in time." Sharon said to him.

Randy placed a hand on Stan's shoulder.

"It's okay, son. We'll clarify this situation."

"I hope so..."

Jimbo and Ned were so shocked...But that had to be some great acting, right?

* * *

"I bought this to an antiquarian in New York City. It is a real collector's item, but I like to have things that are old and still serve their purpose. Look, it still works, it does not need electricity and I have a few movies to watch. I do hope you like Charlie Chaplin!"

Being there, in the dark, with Gregory by her side and watching one of the most romantic movies ever filmed made Wendy feel really strange. It almost seemed as if she was in a movie herself. She had never experienced such a magic moment and didn't actually expect it to happen.

But she had imagined it a few times—when she was with Stan. But she soon realized that life was nothing like a movie. All those years she and Stan had been dating, he had never done anything to melt her heart, to create such intimacy between both of them. No kisses in the rain, no filling the room with candles, no conversations until dawn or even after sex. Oh, sex was one of her biggest disappointments, because he never spoke after it, he just caressed her lazily before dozing off—all that time hearing her friends talk about how marvellous it was and when it was her turn...that was it. Also, he never came to see her at work so that everyone could see how cherished she was, he never changed his looks to please her. What had he done for her? Where did all that affection he showed as a child gone?

Seeing the blind girl stare at the tramp, her eyes getting teary, made her want to cry herself. Of course that could have never happened between them. Perhaps they were only together because they were supposed to continue that child's play. Stan made it clear that morning. He didn't love her. He was just upset that she was happy with someone who wasn't him. As if she was some kind of possession. No, Stan didn't love her. He thought he did but he didn't.

"Oh..."

Even with very little light, Gregory could see how bright Wendy's eyes were. Truth be told, that ending had left a lump in his throat too. He quickly handed her a handkerchief (one of those pretty silk handkerchiefs nobody used anymore but looked like a gentleman's item). Wendy accepted it. Darn, now she was really crying.

"It is a very beautiful ending, isn't it?"

"Yes..." Wendy simply replied, wiping the tears. She didn't dare to spoil that beautiful cloth with her mucus.

"Only a true genius can manage to make a scene so touching without words."

Gregory walked out of the room for a second. Enough for Wendy breath deeply. And think.

She had been like that lady, blind, for too long. And, like her, she felt she was seeing clearly again.

Gregory came back and pressing the switch. Wendy's eyes hurt for a moment when light filled the room.

"Ah, this is splendid! Finally we have electricity again! That fault was prolonging way too much." he walked to her. "Well, so I see you liked it."

"Oh, yes, I liked it a lot. It looks so much better in an old projector, as in its times..." Wendy replied.

She still had photos in her phone. Their graduation, with their friends, their first trip alone to Nebraska, a P!nk concert...Painful memories that she didn't want to revisit again but she couldn't bring herself to delete either.

Until that moment. It was time to leave all that behind. Like the blind florist, she had seen the light.

With a blink, all those photos were gone.

"It is quite fascinating when you think about it, don't you think? A little boy from South London, with an alcoholic father and a psychotic mother, who lives a miserable life and everything points to only misery in the future..."

Then, the social media. She had already purged it, but there was still one thing pending: her status.

"...Then, one night, her mother's voice cracks and someone has to take her place, and he, precisely him, a five-year-old, is chosen. He doesn't know yet, but it's his first step into vaudeville and a new life for him and his family, present and futur-"

One thing made Gregory interrupt his digression: a kiss from Wendy. A brief but intense kiss in the lips.

Wendy moved away and looked him with fear. She was sure she had screwed up, seeing the surprise in his face. But she seemed to be just misinterpreting his facial gestures, because Gregory smiled softly, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Wendy...Do you love me? You really do?"

"What do you think, silly?" Wendy grinned.

"... _Heh_. I just couldn't believe it."

Placing his hands on her cheeks, Gregory kissed her back.

The status...it could stay as it was. 'In a relationship'.

* * *

Jimbo buried his face in his hands.

"Really, Ned, what did I do to that boy? Whatever did I do to deserve this?"

Ned patted his back with much energy and definitely not looking at him.

"What does he want from me?"

"Silence, back there!" Sergeant Yates hit the metallic surface behind him. Jimbo's complaints made it hard to listen to the radio, where they were playing _True Colors._

"...What is that?" the driver squinted, leaning forward.

Jimbo sighed and remained there, with his head low and his eyes closed.

Of course he hadn't shot Stan. He was telling the gospel truth: Ned and him had been hunting and it was time to go back home, so they got into the van. They planned to have a few beers before heading home, brag about the animals they had killed—but the rest was blurry. He didn't remember anything before reaching that traffic light near Tom's Rhinoplasty. But of course Ned hadn't shot at his nephew and the boys who were with him! He was sat by his side, he would have noticed!

Wait, what if he drugged him and that was why he had that lapse of memory? Yes! That was the only explanation! That fucker!

He was about to inquire Ned about it when the van suddenly stopped, so violently that they almost fell to the floor. The front doors opened.

Someone screamed.

 _"What is happening?"_ Ned asked.

Too bad there were no windows! However, something was happening outside, something intense. The van shook—something had hit it.

Then, the door opened. But the person who was standing in front of them was not any of the policemen.

It was wearing a grey, shining and skinny suit with a wide brown belt which had the initials G.D. He also wore gloves of the same material as the suit and long dark boots. His face was hidden behind some big platinum and dark glasses. His red hair was long and curly, it was waving with the breeze, making him seem like some kind of phantasmagorical apparition.

"You are free, gentlemen. Enjoy the night." was all the stranger said before walking away. By his voice they knew it was a male and a young one.

 _Squeak, squeak, squeak._ That sound called Ned's attention on his boots. There was light in the streets again, so now he was able to see it. He elbowed Jimbo, who had remained still, and pointed at his boots with his only hand. Or, mostly, to the trace his boots were leaving.

The two hunters were not sure about going out, but they eventually jumped out of the van. Just to see what was going on.

And they saw it, alright.

What that person was dragging was the blood of the police agents that had arrested them—all of them were lying on the ground, only one of them with his gun on his hand, unused, and completely inert.

Jimbo and Ned did not emit a a sound or made a move, but they could hear there was a big racket in the streets.


	16. Time for a hero

Right when things started to get better!

Without electricity for a whole day, everything in their freezer was lost and a day of work as well, because a mobile company couldn't function without it. Now that they seemed to have been able to repair it, Bebe thought that maybe everything could go back to normal but she as being too optimistic.

The prisoners from the South Park jail had taken the most of the blackout and the confusion it brought. Sergeant Yates had assured the mayor and the citizens that he had it all under control, but they seemed to find a way to fool his secutiry system. The news even affirmed that the rioters had received help from outside the police station. Anyway, now the sergeant was dying at the hospital and the streets were filled with criminals. While Mayor McDaniels did all possible to get help, a help that never seemed to come, criminals of all kinds, from simple traffic offenders to murderers, roamed South Park, terrorizing it citizens. A curfew was declared and people were advised not to go outside unless it was really necessary and they counted with weapons to defend themselves.

But one had to eat. And not all people could afford to have a gun at home.

When Bebe had to stop the car because there were three men in the middle of the road, she knew she was screwed.

"Hey, baby. Come out here and gimme a kiss." An ugly face contemplated her practically glued to the window.

Bebe tried to lock the doors but it was too late: the man had already opened it. Assisted by another taller man, Bebe was dragged out of the car by the hair.

"NO! NO! LET ME GO! LEAVE ME ALONE!" she screamed.

"Aaah, there, there, kitty, relax. I promise you're going to enjoy this." there was another one, with oriental-looking features, licking his lips lewdly.

Bebe kicked, punched, did all she could to break free, but those men were evidently stronger than her. Did nobody hear her screams?

"Kitty sure loves to fight."

"Well, if she wants to play it rough, we will play it rough."

The tallest man was trying to unbutton her shirt; since he was too eager, he ended up ripping it. Bebe, with her arms held, tried to defend herself in all ways she could: screaming, biting—in a desperate attempt to escape. But the attacker's hands were now on her breasts.

"Leave the girl alone!"

The four of them, victim and attackers, froze. There was someone standing on the roof of the car, a big human shadow. The light from the streetlights revealed two big, piercing eyes a dark eyemask, a grey jacket with a white shirt and gray plus size pants. A long cape waved with the wind and under it, what looked like a furry tail. There was something on the person's head: two animal ears.

"...Who the hell are you?!" the Oriental one yelled.

"You think you're so manly, forcing defenseless women." the mysterious man said.

"Beat it, asshole!"

"Yeah, freak, go away before we rip your guts out!"

"Oh, really? Maye _I_ could rip your guts out with _this_..."

The person jumped from the car, pouncing on the nearest rapist and violently scratched his face. There was practically no light there, but with the movements of his hands, it was revealed why the attacker was screaming in pain: he had something attached to the tip of his fingers, like hooks or wire, which served as claws.

"Shit!" the tallest individual exclaimed. He pushed Bebe aside and ran to assist his partner.

The disguised invader was evidently expecting that. With a jump, he got up from the floor and received him with a powerful kick to the testicles. When the man was writhing in agony, he grabbed him to punch him four times in the stomach. He then let him fall to the pavement and dealt with the only one standing, the Chinese-looking. He seemed to realize he was no match for that brute, so he was about to run away, but he was grabbed from an arm and this was twisted until a gruesome crack was heard, followed by an intense pain. The masked man made himself heard through the screams of pain.

"Tell everyone you know that the Coon is watching this town and he takes no bullshit."

When he was released, he man fell to the floor, where he contorted in pain for a moment before getting up as well as he could, Bebe kicking him, and running away.

"This is not over, you son of a bitch! I never forget a face!"

Shit, that was her favorite shirt...Covering her bust with her hands, she turned to look at her savior.

"Goodness, if it wasn't for you, I would have..."

But she found herself in the sole company of the wounded criminals—the masked person was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

 _"It is in times of need when heroes rise. Reports claim that a masked vigilante, who refers to himself as The Coon, is patrolling the streets of South Park, punching the life out of criminals. Here we have an anonymous video of him dealing with a bank robber this afternoon. Thanks to him, none of the five hostages have suffered any harm. With the crisis police is suffering, citizens applaud the courage of this person, who makes them feel more secure. Many ask themselves who is this mysterious savior and if he will run for Mayor, since Mrs Daniels has proven to do shit."_

"Well, it is so nice that someone had what it takes to defend the town!" Sheila commented.

Ike didn't look away from his plate: he had already seen the news on Twitter. As for Kyle, his eyes were on the television and he was barely chewing. He barely ate anything. He soon left the table and ran to his room to grab his phone and call Stan.

"Dude, did you see the news?"

"You mean The Coon? Yeah!"

[Hey, guys, wasn't that...] Token wrote.

[Somebody call Cartman and tell him to meet at U-Store-It.] Craig added.

[Wendy? You there?] Scott wrote.

[Okay, I'll do it.]

* * *

It was not the best quality, but one could perfectly see a person with a fancy suit, a tail and a long red cape punching a woman who had a knife in her hand until she dropped the weapon. The old man who was lying on the floor had a hand placed on his heart, extremely relieved of that strange but opportune apparition.

Craig locked the screen and put the phone back to the back pocket of his pants. He stared at Cartman but he didn't say anything. He was standing there, seeming innocent and clueless, but they knew him for long, they knew it was just a bluff.

"What the hell you think you are doing, Cartman?" Kyle asked.

"I really don't know what you're talking about, guys. That's not me." Cartman replied, his hands behind his back.

"You are. I'd recognize that enormous ass anywhere."

"Hey, watch what you say about my ass!"

"Didn't you say that wasn't your ass?" Token crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

 _["If I must dig into your brain..."]_ , Timmy was raising his hand when Cartman stopped him.

"Alright, alright. Okay, it was me. I...am the Coon."

His big reveal didn't get the reception he supposed it would get.

"Of course we know, Cartman. You used to play superheroes when you were a kid." Stan replied.

"Don't you think you're too old for those games, dude?" Craig said.

"You could have gotten killed!" Tweek exclaimed.

"I know but I'm not afraid." Cartman firmly stated. All his fake innocence was gone, replacing it with determination. "There's a lot of shit going on here, guys. And we can't just look the other way. You talk about the old times, when we used to play. Remember what the game was? Coon and Friends?"

"...I remember. We were all superheroes and had missions and stuff..." Clyde nodded.

"Look at yourselves, guys. You have real superpowers now. You could bring peace and order to this city again if you wanted to." Cartman continued.

"Not so fast, Eric. We can't still quite control our powers." Scott intervened.

"A-Also, saving people in real life's not a ga-game. If they kill you, they kill you for good." Jimmy added.

"So, you're just going to play around with your powers while there's people around here getting killed and assaulted?" Cartman slowly nodded, his lips pursed. "Wow, that's...a very selfish perspective, guys. I didn't expect it from you."

"We're not being selfish. We're just being rational." Kyle asserted. "There's so much going on here. If we screw up, innocent people will pay the consequences and us too. I don't want my family to find out I've been killed in the streets because I was pretending I was an X-Man."

"Alright, alright. I get it. You're just too good for the peasants in this town. Good." He turned around, facing the door.

"That's not what I-"

"No, no, no. I got it. Okay. Keep using your powers to feel cool and shit. If I had them, I'd use them to protect my home—since I have none, I'll have to use what I have. It's alright. Not that I need them to kick ass."

Cartman declared that meeting over, walking away. His friends remained there, looking at one another, not sure of what to say.

"I...actually think he's right..." Clyde shyly declared. "I mean, we're doing nothing with your abilities, when there's lots of scum outside..."

"I'm pretty sure Butters' behind this." Token added. "That guy must be crazy and he's doing all this...Remember what he was? Chaos, yeah. Doctor Chaos or something. Perhaps he's lost his mind too and is playing as the villain. Even if he isn't, we are the only ones who can face him."

"I don't think I want to face anybody. Saving people's not my thing..." Tweek muttered, dealing with his nerves undoing his messy bun to make it again—leaving most of his hair out, as usual.

"If Cartman wants to play superheroes, let him. Sooner or later, he'll get his fat ass kicked and he'll see this is not a game." Kyle said.

"Yeah, I mean, this town's not gone to hell yet. I've seen much more shit after baseball championships." Craig assured.

Kenny, out of the circle, just listened, never voicing his opinion on the matter. Not that someone asked him, anyway.

Had somebody asked him, he would have said that, for once, he agreed with Cartman. South Park did need help. That town was rotten already but with these new riots, going out to the street had become a risky decision. Even if Cartman was a jerk, he had to be thankful about that extra help. While he unloaded all that adrenaline on people's faces, Mysterion would have time to dig into the source of this chaos.

Because another truth had been said that afternoon: Butters had to be behind all of that.

And if Butters was implied, Dougie O'Connell had to know something about it.

He didn't fool him even for a moment. He had been in touch with Butters after his disappearance. He was as sure about it as he was about his own existence. So that night, when he broke into the school, he wasn't surprised.

It was evident that he didn't go there to bring back old memories. He went straight to the old shop class. Mysterion followed him.

"Is somebody there?! Hello?!"

"I think there's no one here..."

"Crap...What do we do now?"

Mysterion frowned. He knew those voices...

Voices which were interrupted by Dougie's voice.

"Well, well, since you seem to enjoy death that much, how about I help you meet it right now?"

And then, a loud, screeching sound. Mysterion recognized it perfectly, because it was a tool that had caused his death several times. A saw.

"Are you joking?! Let us out!"

"Damn!"

Someone had made several changes, turning the class into some kind of twisted execution chamber. There were four people hanging from the ceiling, connected to a mechanism that made them get closer and closer towards the blade. They tried to roll, but they were not able to move—they were strongly tied. They tried and tried, but it was useless. The pulley was taking them ruthlessly towards the saw. The only thing they could do was give up.

"Well, this is the end..." Pete sighed.

"It was a pleasure meeting you guys." Henrietta said.

"See you in hell." Firkle groaned.

The blades were starting to trim the tip of Henrietta's long hair when it suddenly stopped.

A shadow appeared before them.

"Don't move now." a raspy voice spoke.

They were unhanged and placed carefully on the floor, where their leashes were cut. There, now safe, the Goths gasped and trembled. It had been so close that Mysterion let them recover their breath.

"Where is he?"

The Goths looked at him. It was then when Mysterion realized that there were just three of them in front of him. Where was the youngest?

The question was answered soon: he was behind him, with a knife in hand, that he stabbed in the space between his shoulders. Then in his kidney. And once more, hitting the spine.

Mysterion's knees bent and Pete stepped forward. He also had a knife. Removing his hood, he used it to cut his neck. He either had a lot of strength or practice, because he didn't need much time to make Mysterion's body fall on his stomach while his head remained on his hands.

Michael and Henrietta stood up, without a sign of dismay now, and surrounded the corpse.

"Okay, it's done."

"This should be enough. If it works on vampires, it should work on him."

"You think we can keep his head?"

"Yeah, why not? We can make a precious cup with his skull."

Pete was about to hand Henrietta the head when Mysterion's eyes opened so suddenly that she couldn't help gasping. He was looking directly at her.

"Oh, shit!" Firkle exclaimed.

The body was not suffering some kind of post-mortem spasm: it was grabbing his ankle and thenpulled with enough strength to make him fall to the ground. Pete and Henrietta tried to deal with it, but the body stood up with a jump and punched them in the face. Michael tried to stab him with a knife which seemed to have appeared out of nowhere (it was funny but mildly inconvenient how their dark clothes fused them with the darkness of the room), but Mysterion's body kicked it out of his reach and then kicked him in the jaw. Once all of them four were on the floor, he kneeled in front of his head and held it. The Goths witnessed how he placed it gently on his cut neck. They couldn't see it from that perspective but the bones seemed to glue together again, the veins found their way to reconnect and drive blood back, the cut disappeared. What they did see was that Mysterion tilted his head to one side and the other, put his hood back on and then turned around to look at them.

"I am not a vampire." he growled.

He grabbed Michael's long braid, causing him pain.

"You killed me once. Why are you back to your old ways? Trying to bring Cthulhu back?"

"This has nothing to do with Him, let him go!" Pete stood up.

"Then what's the meaning of this? Speak!"

"Don't speak! Let him kill me!" Michael begged his friends, keeping a straight face.

"Did he order you to do this?"

"Don't say a fucking thing!"

"Shut up! Is it Professor Chaos and General Disarray? Huh? Were they?"

None of them spoke but they didn't need to. That was what Mysterion supposed. He let go of Michael's hair.

"Why? Did they blackmail you?"

"No." Henrietta finally confessed. "We did this freely."

"General Disarray found us one night, not too long ago." Pete added. "He told us there was a big thing cooking. Chaos. Like something South Park had never seen before. He suggested us to collaborate. He knew we are fed up with this conformist town and convinced us to join his army or whatever. People who just want to see South Park burn. We set this together. We were supposed to kill you, so the town would lose its hero."

"Where did he go?" Mysterion threatened them.

"He's gone. You're not going to catch him. Even if we didn't get to kill you, we made you lose some precious time."

There was a hint of malice in Henrietta's face when uttering those words. Mysterion didn't respond to them. He turned around and ran out from the class through a window.


	17. Your love is my drug

**The title is based on Ke$ha's eponymous song**

* * *

Jesus had seen him when he came in, and there he found him again when he walked out from the church. It was as if he hadn't decided yet whether to come in or not. In that case, he thought that perhaps he could stop for a moment and have a talk with him.

"Hello."

"Oh...Hi, Jesus." Stan mumbled, snapping out of his self-absorption.

"Is there a problem?"

"Well, yeah..."

"That's what I supposed. I haven't seen you here in a while."

"Well, you haven't been in the church for some time either."

"Well, yes, my program is absorbing so much of my time—there I was going now. Do you need something? Did you come here to see me or Father Maxi?"

"Uhm...No...I just came to visit an old friend..."

Jesus understood that Stan had indeed come to that sacred place seeking help. He wished he had time to sit with him and talk about what was eating him, but he didn't have it: he had to be at the studio quick.

"Well, you know my program ends at eight. If you need me, you can meet me at the studio after I am done or in the church. Or in my house, if you want more intimacy."

"Yeah, thanks."

"No problem. Goodbye, my boy."

Stan watched Jesus leave, a bit afflicted about having to leave someone so gloomy alone. However, Stan hadn't come there to ask Jesus what he would have done in his situation. Jesus knew about prosecution and stuff, but not much about broken hearts, he supposed. Same with Father Maxi.

No, there was only one person in the world how could help him, and he was behind the walls of the cemetery.

It felt like entering another realm, an oasis of peace in that crazy little town. They were all there, indifferent to the mayhem of the recent weeks, seeing seasons come and go indifferently, after so many years. There was Pip Pirrup, gone too soon, whose tomb had been left unattended because he left no one in the world to take care of it. Not far from there was Stan's own grandfather—he would go and say hi to him later, when he was done. Some steps away, Ms. Crabtree kept resting in peace and, most of all, silence. Gosh, he could still hear her insane-bitch screams after so many years. And Ms. Choksondik, by her side. Stan slowed down, glancing at the newest tombs. The Stotches had been buried side to side under a tree. Sergeant Yates' was still surrounded by flowers and other presents.

He eventually stopped in front of the one he was looking for. He placed his hands inside of his pockets and hanged his head.

"...Hey, Chef..."

 _Jerome "Chef" McElroy. Beloved friend._

"Even after...well...You always gave us very good advice, and if I ever needed it, it is now...We got powers...Yeah, like real powers...Superstrenght, speed, eye lasers...Freaky, isn't it? Butter's gone crazy and goes around causing Chaos, unleashing criminals and all. But that's not the problem. The problem is Wendy...No, I mean, she's not the problem, is...How can I put it? Remember Gregory? He's been absent for years, since the whole Mothers Against Canada issue, and now he comes back and...and...He's with Wendy now. They're dating. I'm not being jealous, everyone knows, they are together. With that pompous jerk...But you know what hurts me the most, Chef? That Wendy's so happy—like she got rid of a burden...Of me. The thing is...I did everything possible to make this happen...I had it coming...Then why is this hurting so much?"

Chef remained quiet, insensitive to his call for help. Stan sighed though the nose.

"You knew how to deal with women. I wish you were here. If you think we had too many questions back then, you should see us now...Well, perhaps I am the one who needs help. Whatever I do, I do wrong. I don't even know how I ended up in this situation. I screwed up, Chef. I screwed up really bad and now, now I don't think it has solution. I let Wendy go with Gregory. I fucked up a lot of times in my life but never like this, none of those screw-ups hurt like this. She claims I don't care about her but that's not true. I love her like...you have no idea. She was my first love...I don't think I ever loved a girl like I loved her. All the things I shared with her...Do you know when one doesn't want something to happen and ends up doing something that makes it become true? That stuff ancient Greeks and Shakespeare wrote all the time. Now I see what they meant: it's horrible...Chef...What should I do now? Just...let her go? Give up and accept that she found someone better, who understands her perfectly and always knows what he's doing? Is that what I should do? Or...or what? Do I really have a choice? Reconquer her somehow? Perhaps there's something I can do?"

The wind blowed. Stan took it as a sign that, somewhere beyond human comprehension, Chef was listening. Good old Chef, giving him the advice he needed.

"...Please, tell me there's something I can do..."

* * *

"You really think it's official?" Kyle asked, finishing his lemon slush.

"I'm pretty sure, yep. Her status is 'in a relationship' and she's been posting photos of them doing romantic stuff and quotes about second chances, trust and love. That sounds quite official to me." Token replied.

"Oh, man, now I'm gonna have to watch Stan very closely; he's going to drink until he drops dead..."

"If I was Wendy, I would have ditched him too for Gregory." Craif couldn't help scrolling through Wendy's gallery. "I'm happy with Tweek, the blondie's still an asshole and all but, damn, look at that six-pack."

"Well, if she's happy..." Token shrugged, taking a bite to his hot dog.

"Yeah, but Stan's my best friend and he's bottling all of this up..."

"I remember Gregory, rubbing a lot of stuff in everyone's faces. Maybe he changed but...Poor Stan. Now he's got to see him with Wendy..."

"He'll find another gal. He just has to grow some balls and get over it." Craig dismissed the matter.

"I don't think it's that easy. They've been together for so many years, more than a decade. That's a lot. Like you and Tweek. How would you feel if he left you for someone you despise?" Kyle responded.

"I'd leave a shit inside their mail boxes."

"I guess you guys were lucky." Token sighed. "I also thought Nicole would be the mother of my children, but we didn't get beyond eleventh grade."

"But you're fine with Jenny now, right?" Kyle asked.

"Oh, yeah, I love her to pieces...I wish I could tell her about our powers, and take her to places without having to take a plane or the car."

"What about you, Kyle? You're still alone and virgin?" Craig asked.

"Hey! Who told you I was a virgin?"

"Cartman did."

"Don't listen to that fatass. I dated Millie Larsen for a while, before she went to college. And remember Rebecca Cotswolds, the homeschooled? She-"

"Uh...Hey, guys..."

That apparition was sudden, but the group was not scared at all. Towelie was not such an imponent guy, he had never been, not even coming out from a dark alley as he did, with his eyes red and wobbling as if he was walking on a tightrope.

"Ah...Hi, Towelie..." Kyle supposed there was no way to avoid him, he was in the way. "..What's up?"

"Well, I could be better... _Mmmmembackhups_...Did you boys remember to bring a towel?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Yeah, sure."

"That's good. Uhm, boys..." The towel tottered towards the trio. "We are good friends, right? And good friends help each other out...Can you give me some of your meth?"

"...Our...what?" Kyle asked.

"Your meth. I know you have it. The situation's pretty touch out here. The dealers are too busy getting stabbed by other dealers escaped from jail and kicked by some masked asshole...It's hard getting good shit...Not even six-graders have anything to sell...Come on, friends, gimme some...I'll return the favor..."

"I'm not your friend." Craig drew back when Towelie reached up to him.

"My back hurts, my life is a big bullcrap and I can't count to three...I need a little help to feel just...okay and...Come on, boys. Don't be selfish..."

"Really, Towelie, we don't have meth." Kyle insisted.

"It's true. We don't have anything." Token nodded.

"Don't be mean to me! You have something!" Towelie protested, his placid expression getting sourer, raising a trembling finger to each of them.

"No, really, we wouldn't..."

"Fuck you, dude!" Craig frowned. He was tired of all that nonsense, he had come out that afternoon to have fun, not to be harassed by a towel with drug withdrawal.

" **NO, FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! YOU'RE A TOWEL! YOU'RE ALL TOWELS!** "

Towelie snapped and he snapped really hard. He crouched to grab an empty beer bottle from the floor, smashed it against the pavement and threatened the three young men with the cutting edge. His teeth were gritted and he was panting.

"I'll just repeat it one more time...Give me the FUCKING METH!"

"Whoa, Towelie, please, we're telling the truth, we don't have any drugs!" Kyle was getting really scared now.

" **YOU LIAR!** "

Towelie was about to stab Kyle—Craig acted quickly.

With a punch, he prevented the towel from hurting him. But he didn't really want to punch him so hard.

He didn't expect Towelie to fly seven yards, leaving a crack on the pavement.

"..."

"...Oh." that escaped from Craig's lips.

"Craig, what...? You do have superpowers!" Kyle exclaimed.

"Nah, I don't think so. I've been working out."

"Are you kidding? I think you just killed him!"

"Tsssh! Someone's coming!" Token suddenly exclaimed.

They barely had time to react before a person appeared. Unfortunately, it was someone they knew.

"Oh, hey!"

"H-Hi, Mr. Mackey!" Token greeted the newcomer.

They casually positioned themselves, covering the entrance of the alley, the crack on the floor and Towelie lying still, and pretended they were glad to see their old school counsellor.

"It's not very safe to be outside, m'kay. Even with a masked vigilante taking care of the city there's a lot of criminals loose, m'kay."

"Yeah, we had to borrow some DVDs from the library. We were heading to my house." Token lied.

"Ah, that's good, m'kay. Say, how have you been doing? Are you studying or working? I saw your mother at the mall the other day, Kyle, she told me you're working as an administrative for a friend of your father."

"Y-Yes, I do."

"That's nice. Tell her I said hi, m'kay? What about you?"

"I'm...uh..." Token spoke while Kyle discreetly looked behind him. "Studying a Bachelor in Engineering..."

"I always knew you'd go far, I'm glad...Craig?"

"Nah, I didn't study past high school and now I'm a loser who does freelance writing shit." Craig replied, keeping a straight face.

"M'kay...I'm very glad to see old students growing up to become useful members of society. I remember when you were little kids and you come to my office oft-"

"Mr. Mackey, it's nice seeing you again and all but, don't you have places to be?" Craig directly asked.

"...Well, yes, I should be going before my noodles go cold, m'kay...It's been very nice to see you again. Be careful, m'kay?"

"Sure, m'kay." The boys replied.

"M'kay, goodbye, young men."

"Goodbye, Mr. Mackey."

They waited until Mr. Mackey disappeared around a corner to breathe again and run towards Towelie.

He hadn't moved in all this time but he had his eyes open and was blinking.

"Oh, he's not dead, thank goodness..." Token muttered.

"Hm?" Towelie looked at everyone, blinking in a stupid way, but definitely more calm than before. "Ah, hey, Kyle...Hello, Clyde...Ah, no, your name was...I don't know...Connor, or something with an S...And the black guy..."

"Are you feeling better now?" Kyle asked.

"Better? No...Not really. My whole body hurts and my head..."

"Well, at least you're still alive..." Token murmured.

"I'm sorry we had to do that but, really, we don't have any meth to give you." Kyle said.

"Meth? Of course you don't have meth! You always said no when I offered you, since you were sixteen...No, wait...Fifteen? Seventeen? How old are you, anyway?"

"If you knew we didn't do drugs, why did you insist so much?"

"I didn't insist. In fact...I don't know what I'm doing here...Can I go now?"

"Well, I guess, but..." Towelie, muttering something, got up, shook the dirt out of his body and was ready to go, but Kyle stopped him. "Wait. I still don't understand why you..."

"Stop trying. You think this guy knows what he's doing?" Craig told Kyle.

"I only remember this guy coming to the store and telling me...telling me...I don't know what he said to me...He asked me about meth...I said I didn't have it, that we only sold marijuana, and then...Ah, forget it, I don't know what he said then, but his eyes...Ah, yes, those eyes...Those big eyes...That's the only thing I remember..." Towelie muttered.

He had muttered, but the three boys heard it perfectly. They looked at each other.

"...Perhaps...?" Kyle asked.

"Perhaps what?" Craig asked.

"...I have to find Jimbo and Ned."

They didn't notice the shadow that ran on the roofs, the hero who, after being decapitated a few minutes before, now crossed the town as fast as he could, not allowing himself to stop for a second to breath, to reach the City Hall. The words he was getting from his radio hack device were not the ones he wanted to hear.

 _"Calling all units! Calling all units! There's a shooting inside of the City Hall! Did you hear? We need help out here!"_

Oh, God, please, no. Don't let it be too late.


	18. Disarray

**Guest: I would love to add the designs I had for the kids as grown-ups to the story. I have a few concept drawings and, as you say, it would be fun to make them in the South Park style. But I'm afraid I can't do that. The South Park character generator doesn't have adult or even Canadian models anymore, and making them with Photoshop will be quite a long and hard task—and I don't have that much free time and patience. Also, this website has it difficult to add links to external websites where I can host those images, since we can only add the preview one. For the moment, the only way you can see the protagonists as adults is in your imagination. I'm sorry, and thanks for your review.**

* * *

There was not a single active police agent at the doors of the City Hall: all of them were either dead or wounded. Well, yes, there was one, but it was hard counting him as an agent having into account all those years he had been out of service struggling to learn how to read.

As always, Officer Barbrady seemed not to know what he was doing there. South Park had to be really desperate if he had been called.

"You! Freeze! Oh, wait! It's Mysterion!"

"What's happened?!" Mysterion landed by his side. Officer Barbrady couldn't help clapping at that athletic display.

"Some ginger dude has broke into the City Hall shooting everybody."

"Where is the Mayor?!"

"She's in her office, it seems. She must be dead by now!"

"And you're doing nothing?!"

Mysterion growled, running into the building.

"...Well, he's got a big gun!" Barbrady defended himself.

Mysterion just had to follow the trail of blood, ignoring the dead and wounded he found in his way. He hoped it was not too late.

The door of Mrs. McDaniels' office was open. Her bodyguards lied on the floor by it, one with a bullet in his skull and the other with three shots in his torso. She, terrorized, couldn't move back anymore, she was already against the wall.

"What do you want from me?! It's the power? Is that what you want?!"

"The only thing I want from you, madame," the attacker grinned. He had tied his long, red hair because this opperation was messy—and more messy it would get, "if your head on that pretty tray your serve your tea on."

Mysterion ran to get him. General Disarray had been waiting for another fool to interrupt him. And like the other, he was greeted by a burst of gunfire.

But this didn't stop Mysterion. Bleeding, with seven holes in his chest, he kept running, and greeted the General back with a punch in the face.

General Disarray recovered very soon. He used the butt of his gun to hit Mysterion in the stomach. That pain, alon with the caused by the previous shots, was taken advantage of. Disarray hit him again, this time in the head, making him fall to the floor.

"I see you didn't let those crows fool you, huh? Chaos told me you could heal yourself. But I'm sure that you have a limit. I'd love to see how you'd heal if I left you like a sieve."

A cruel grin grew in his face.

"Of if I smash your head until it turns into mush..."

He raised his weapon once again, ready to carry out his threat.

Mysterion rolled backwards, standing with a jump, to then grab his gun. They both fought to control it. During the struggle the weapon fired. Mayor McDaniels was lucky enough to drop to the floor in time to avoid being peppered. One bullet grazed Disarray's cheek. Mysterion was also close to getting a hole in his shoulder.

He wasn't going to get more shots that afternoon, he had had enough for that day!

Remembering what his teacher Mr. Garrison used to tell him when he was in third grade, he used his head for something: to hit the General's. The blow was hard enough to leave him dazed, circumstance that Mysterion used to snatch his gun and point at him with it.

"Keep trying. I dare you to keep fucking trying."

Disarray groaned in pain—actually, that hurt like hell to Mysterion too. Understanding that there was nothing he could do in that situation, he raised his hands.

"I can go on as long as you want." Musterion made Disarray lay on the floor on his stomach.

"Oh, Mysterion, thank God you came..." McDaniels got up and approached cautiously, not looking away from Disarray. "He..."

"It's alright, Mrs. Mayor." Mysterion sighed. He wasn't feeling pain anymore, surely having healed himself, but he was very tired. Too many fatal injuries in one single day.

"Who the hell is this? Why did he try to kill me?"

"Chaos."

"Chaos?"

"Yes. He already massacrated the police force and released the convicts. Without you, there would be officially no law in South Park."

"Well, I swear on my life that he's going to get the injection for that!"

"Perhaps he deserves it." Mysterion looked down at Disarray. The villain raised his head to glare at him. "But he's just a pawn."

"A pawn? You mean this is just part of a bigger scheme? Oh, my goodness! As if we didn't have enough with all these mafias! Do you have any idea of who's behind this, the leader?"

Mysterion nodded but before he could say it he was interrupted by a voice talking to him in the ear.

 _"Good job, Mysterion. I didn't expect less from you."_

"...What's the matter?" Mayor McDaniels looked at Mysterion with concern, seeing how rigid he became.

"Butters..."

 _"Uh-Uh."_

"...Professor Chaos..."

 _"That's better."_

"You're on your own now. Do you still want to do this? If you stop now, I can still find a way to save your neck. What you have been doing is terrorism. You are in time before you sink deeper. You can still allege transitory insanity."

 _"Hahaha..."_

"Please, listen to me."

 _"Oh, Mysterion...You are so nice...Too much for your own good...Do you really think I don't know what I'm doing? Is that it? You think that my powers fried my brain or something of the sort?"_

"I am just giving you a last chance before I have to put you down like a rabid dog."

 _"And miss my pièce of résistance? I know you love to use your fists, Mysterion, my dear friend, but control yourself. You'll see. You're gonna love what I'm preparing."_

"I'm going to find you and..."

 _"Yes. We will see each other face to face. Eventually. Until then, ta-ta."_

"I-It was him?" McDaniels didn't receive an answer. She came closer to Mysterion. "Mysterion, you're scaring me, what's the matter? What did he tell you?"

Mysterion remained quiet for a bit more time.

The Mayor's questions were left unanswered. Mysterion grabbed General Disarray and forced him to stand up.

"Is Barbrady the new officer in charge?"

"Unfortunately, we didn't have anyone else, yes."

"Bring him in."

Officer Barbrady was immediately called to meet them at the office.

"This will be a hell to clean..." he commented, having to walk on the corpse of a bodyguard.

"It was about time. Now we can carry on the interrogation." Mayor Daniels said.

"You caught the attacker?"

Officer Barbrady observed how Mysterion stripped General Disarray's glasses, in order to look at him directly to the face. How young he was! He seemed to be barely old enough to buy alcohol!

He was young but he had a hard look. He wasn't scared of Mysterion, not even of the perspective of being sent to prison and sentenced to be executed. He held his gazed and maintained a cold-stone face.

"You lied to me when I asked you about your connection with Professor Chaos. You made me fall into a trap. But this time you are going to be sincere to me. What is the Professor preparing?"

General Disarray smirked.

"And spoil the surprise?"

Mysterion didn't accept that answer, and punched him right in the nose.

"Uh, that's not a very legal way to interrogate someone." Officer Barbrady pointed out.

"Shut up, Barbrady, that son of a bitch killed a lot of people today." Mayor Daniels replied. She wanted to punch him in the face too.

"Why do you follow him in the first place?" Mysterion continued. "Do you believe in all that chaos crap too?"

"This town is rotten to the very core. A rat nest. Everyone pretends they are friendly folks but are ready to spit on your eye whenever they have the chance, there's always someone who steps on your head, even those you thought were your friends. You try to be a good citizen, pay your taxes, drive with caution, be kind to everyone. But does someone pay for that? Does anybody acknowledge your effort, even care? No...Everyone just thinks of themselves...Nobody cares..." General Disarray hissed. "Look at yourself. Trying to be a hero. I bet you don't really care about any of us. You're only here for the thrill or the money, or the glory, right? And if you're really stupid enough to think that this town deserves to be saved, I pity you. No one cares about your sacrifices. They only care about you because you protect them, and screw the person behind the mask. The people you call friends...If you only knew..."

Mayor Daniels and Officer Barbrady looked at Mysterion. He was too silent. He didn't reply immediately.

"Just because you had awful experiences doesn't mean everyone is the same. There are good people in this town worth saving. That's why I do this. I am never going to let anybody hurt them...I doubt you understand."

Disarray sighed. "Yes. I don't. You're such a moron..."

"I will repeat it once again. What is the Professor planning to do?"

"Destroy and forget this shitty town once and for all."

"How?"

"How? Oh, you want it to be so easy? Nah-uh. Sorry, Mysterion. You're going to have to figure out yourself."

Mysterion meditated his next question. That time was taken advantage of by General Disarray, unfortunately.

When Mysterion realized, there was a gush of blood coming out of his mouth.

"What the-?" Barbrady exclaimed.

"He bit his own tongue!" Mysterion held the General in a certain position to try to avoid him chocking on his own blood. "Call emergencies, quick!"

Mrs. McDaniels was the one who ran to call someone. Mysterion continued to hold the villain, doing everything possible to prevent his death. He knew he had to act quick, he was bleeding too much.

As Disarray's blood mixed with the one of his victims, Mysterion understood that this was not a child's game anymore. Those people, Dougie, Butters, were not playing. They had spilled blood, they had taken people's lives.

He hoped Cartman, as the hero he claimed to be now, realized it too.

 _...If you only knew..._


	19. The big eyes

Gregory definitely took good care of his body. With and without clothes, he looked like an Adonis. That seemed too good to be true. But it was.

They broke the kiss to look at each other, almost as if Gregory was asking for permission. How silly: they were already nakes, Gregory with his condom on. Wendy just opened her legs, letting him in. Gregory kissed her lips again, descending to the neck, and there he stayed, kissing, biting softly, humming, licking. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, letting out a delighted sigh, wrapping her arms around his torso.

 _"Good job, Mysterion. I didn't expect less from you."_

 _"Do you really think I don't know what I'm doing?"_

 _"You're gonna love what I'm preparing."_

Wendy's smile vanished. She held onto Gregory, as if she wanted him to protect her, but it was useless. She could still hear that horrible voice. The fun was ruined.

Gregory let out a small whine and leaned forward to kiss Wendy's lips. He rolled to lay on his back beside her, all covered in sweat. He then turned on his side to look at her and he found a disturbed face.

"Are you alright, Wendy?"

Why did she have to hear those things? She just wanted to have a good time with her boyfriend. Oh, goodness, Butters, what have you become?

"Wendy?"

"...It's alright, don't worry."

"Are you sure? You look pale." Gregory caressed her cheeks.

"It's nothing, really." Oh, Gregory. If only she could have told him. The burden of her secret was too heavy at certain times. If he knew, he could have surely given her good advice and comfort. How she wished she could tell him everything, from the very beginning.

She embraced him and Gregory welcomed her in his arms, playing with her hair. Wendy wanted to forget about the powers, the trouble Butters was causing, everything, and just enjoy Gregory's sweet loving.

* * *

"I'm not really sure about this, Kyle."

"Come on, dude, he's your uncle."

"He tried to kill us."

"I know but, please, trust me. There's something fishy in here."

"Okay...But, Cartman..."

"Yeah?"

"Do you have to wear that thing?"

"We're on a mission, aren't we?"

Kenny's older brother, Kevin, had shown up at his house early in the morning, when the family was having breakfast together. All prisoners had been released, so he would have been a moron if he hadn't taken that oportunity—although the release had taken place a few days before and he didn't show up until then, and just for a while, to grab a bit of money before leaving who knew where. So, if Kevin was free, Jimbo and Ned had to be out too, right?

They looked for them at their respective houses, in all bars in South Park and the locals they used to be seen frequently. Nobody had seen them...and they were telling the truth, because the presence of the Coon served as a way of intimidating the possible witnesses. They succeeded around lunch time, when they searched in Jimbo's Guns.

They were watching television in the little space they used to use mainly for storage but, as time passed, they used it more and more for relaxing, eating pre-cooked microwave bacon. When Kyle cleared his throad to attract their attention, Jimbo stood up as if someone had pinched his butt.

"What are you doing here? Did you come to spout more lies about us?"

"No, uncle Jimbo. We only came here to talk to you." Stan replied.

"Well, what makes you think I want to talk to you?"

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'm really sorry. But you _did_ shoot at us."

"There we go again..." Jimbo left his place on a box angrily and placed his hands on his hips. "How many times do we have to say we didn't shoot at you? Stanley! You are my nephew! Do you think I'd hurt you, or let anybody hurt you?"

"Perhaps you did it but you don't remember?" Kyle asked.

"Oh, come on, how would I-"

 _"Uhmmm..."_ Ned intervened. _"I don't remember much about that afternoon."_

"...Well, truth be told, I have to admit that I have a few memory lapses too..."

"What's the last thing you remember?" Kyle asked.

"The cinema...Yes. Yes, Ned and I were talking about kiwis—not the fruit, but the bird. Those bizarre creatures, how good it would be to have one stuffed. Yes, that's right. And then...then...I'm not sure..."

 _"A guy."_

"What?" Jimbo turned to Ned.

 _"There was a guy. He made you stop the car."_

"...He did?"

"A guy with big eyes?" Kyle got closer, visibly hungry for information.

 _"Hmmm."_

"I don't know...I don't remember anything. Perhaps it wasn't even a guy. But...if you say so, Ned, maybe I stopped the car for some reason, yeah..."

"And then you shot at us..." Stan turned to Kenny. The blond seemed to be lost in thought, and, whatever he was meditating, he didn't share it.

"Hypnosis?" Cartman frowned.

"Maybe?" Kyle asked.

"But who would...I mean, who could hypnotize people to make them attack us?" Stan asked.

"Butters." Cartman replied emphatically.

"Well...Who else could it be?" Stan asked.

"Okay, I'm lost." Jimbo admitted.

"Uh, nothing. Thanks for your contribution, gentlemen." Cartman replied.

"Thanks to you, Coon, for helping my nephew and his friends. I hope you find that bastard and break his fingers for me. If you ever need a gun, they're on me! Finally someone has the balls to do what it has to be done!"

Jimbo insisted on inviting them to a few beers as a symbol of peace and they supposed they couldn't refuse. After all, both parties regretted what they had done and said. Now, fortunately, they were in good terms again and Stan and Jimbo were nephew and uncle once again. They spent the rest of the day just chatting, drinking. Now that there were no hard feelings, Jimbo could tell them that they were old enough to hunt with them one of those days, and gave them a few unwanted advices about manliness and how to deal with the adversities they would find in the future. He also increased The Coon's ego by praising him for beating criminals in the streets.

But those beers were a bit sour to them. Kenny hadn't slept that night, watching Dougie O'Connell at the hospital, until he knew he was out of danger, and later he wasn't able to close his eyes without imagining Butters, majestic, cruel, standing on the ruins of South Park. Kyle still had in his mind that absent look of Jimbo and Ned when they shot at them without hesitation, and Towelie's abnormal fury. Stan, on the other hand, wondered if that summer could get any worse.

* * *

 ** _BZZZZZZ_**

...

 ** _BZZZZZ_**

"I'm coming, I'm coming!"

Doctor Mephesto hurried to answer the door in his pajamas, having been woken up right when he was entering the REM phase. Whatever was the reason, he hoped it was important.

He opened the door and looked at the unexpected visitor with a frown. However, he remained cordial.

"Good night, uhm...I'm very sorry, but, as you see, the opening hours are from five to ten, and it's...it's..."

...

"The...portal...Yes, I have access to it. I replicated it here, in order to have a better understanding of the bounds of space, time and matter..."

...

"Follow me."

Mephesto stepped aside to let the visitor in and closed the door once he was inside. He marched towards the second basement, taking the elevator. He didn't look at the other during the trip. He didn't open his mouth or even blink.

Once there, he let the visitor step ahead while he stood watching the door.

"Of course, I have to open it myself. What is behind that door is protected by a very complicated password that only I know. Thank you for pointing it out."

Mephesto introduced the code in the keyboard on the wall: 12345. The door opened automatically.

Inside, two curved columns of steel in the middle of the vast room, thick wires on the floor. And a dead silence.

The visitor looked at Doctor Mephesto and he understood. He approached the big, wide console with endless buttons of different colors on one side of the room. He pressed the biggest one. There was a zooming sound, and then, a glow within the two pillars which gained consistency, like it was semi-ethereal jelly with a greyish supernatural glow.

The portal was open. South Park and Imaginationland had just been connected.

That meant Doctor Mephesto was not necessary anymore.

The Doctor looked at the visitor with blank expression, until he gasped and fell flat to the floor, and there he stayed, immobile.

* * *

"Be very careful when we are out, alright, dear? Close all the windows and if you see someone around, don't hesitate to call us and we will be right back."

"Sure, dad, don't worry."

Of course, they were worried, but Bebe couldn't be happier about the perspective of being home alone for the night. Since she couldn't afford living on her own yet, these little times savoring solitude and independence were pure glory. Being at home, she had nothing to worry about. This time she had plenty of rooms to lock herself into and a kitchen full of objects she could use to defend herself from the bastards who wandered the streets.

Her plan for the night was simple: stream movies and popcorn, lying on the sofa with just her nightgown on and a few curlers on her hair, repairing and painting her nails. Simple but nice. On her own. Quiet. Was there anything better than that?

The movie was already in its opening credits when someone rang at the door. Bebe paused the reproduction and stood up, walking funny because she was wearing her toe separators. She finally got to reach the door, but before opening she looked through the peephole. She sighed in relief: it was someone she knew. So she opened the door.

"Hey. What's up? What are you doing h-?"

Her lips remained open when her eyes closed and she fell backwards. The other got to grab her by an arm before she hit the ground and took her out.

When Bebe's parents returned past midnight, a bit tipsy after having dinner at the restaurant with lots of red wine, all their good mood was gone in the wink of an eye when they saw the front door of their house open and Bebe's stuff in the living room but not her.


	20. Blood orgy

Clyde's phone rang around five in the morning. After the awfully busy night he had had at the restaurant, he felt extremely tired and needed all hours possible to rest—who the hell was calling him at that time?

Trying to grab the phone, he pressed the red button. Which was fine, because he turned around and fell asleep again.

They called again, waking him up. Clyde groaned and this time he got to grab the phone and answer.

" _MpmhmCartman_?"

"Clyde, the portal to Imaginationland has been opened once again and a few creatures escaped. I need your help."

"Imaginationwhat? Uggh, no, can't...Call someone else..." Clyde was already turning around, closing his eyes.

"I got some worrying news. They caught Bebe."

That was the magic word which made Clyde stand up.

"Bebe?! Are you sure?!"

"Yes. We have to be quick if we want to save her. Meet me at the lake as soon as you can. The others already have their suits on."

Clyde didn't make any questions about said suits or who were the others. He was getting dressed hurrily as Cartman spoke.

* * *

The first thing Bebe perceived when she opened her eyes was a blurry big spot above her.

" _Unng_..."

She had to blink a few times and wait for a bit for her vision to return. Then, only then, she could finally see that what was looking at her was a squirrel with a red scarf wrapped around its neck.

"Aw...Hi, there, little guy..."

"Ah, good, she woke up!" the squirrel exclaimed. "Now we can slit her open, consume her flesh and bath in her blood!"

"Wh-?"

Being able to see where she was, she found herself tied to a wide rock, surrounded by trees and other small animals. A pentagram was painted on the rock, right where she was lying. And the animals were holding something in their little paws—mouths, those who didn't have them—: daggers.

Bebe screamed out of her lungs.

* * *

"Oh, my God, did you hear that?" Scott turned his head towards the tree mass, feeling anxiety increase and eliminate all trace of sleepiness that was left inside of him.

"Yes, I hope we're not too late. Go ahead and see if you can find her."

Scott nodded and ran as fast as he could towards the forest, praying God over and over. He had just disappeared when Clyde landed near The Coon.

"What did just happen?! Where is Bebe?!"

"Cartman!" Clyde turned around. Wendy was running towards them too, still dressed in her simple shirt and shorts she wore to sleep. "I'm here!"

"Good that you came so soon, I called you as soon as I got the news." Cartman told them.

"Who took Bebe?"

"A bunch of monsters who will sacrifice her to Satan. We have to hurry. There, put this on."

He handed Wendy and Clyde clothes.

"But we don't have time for that, we have to go now!" Clyde protested.

"Hey, as much as she's in trouble, we can't let her or anyone find out we have powers, right?"

"I guess so, but, Cartman." Wendy frowned, unfolding a skirt that looked more like a napkin. "I see too little fabric in here."

"Well, are you going to get changed or not? Bebe's in trouble! Captain Diabetes is already looking for her and I'm going too."

"Captain who? Oh, what the heck." Clyde had no time for that. He quickly removed his clothes and put the one-piece suit he was given on.

"Now, whatever you find, attack it, don't even think about it." Cartman commanded.

And he ran towards the forest.

"Oh, my God, Bebe..." Wendy muttered, tying the mask she had been given, pink like her gloves and skirt.

"Come on, we'll go together." Clyde told her.

Since they were both ready, Clyde grabbed Wendy and, unfolding his wings, they elevated.

He didn't know where Cartman had taken those suits from, but they were perfectly designed, he had to give him that. His had a couple of hole in his back where his wings were, and he could move them just fine; it also had very little resistance, so he could move as if he was wearing nothing. He also had to add that helmet, which allowed him to cover his face while, at the same, he could see everything perfectly with some kind of filter, like a polarized glass. He observed that Wendy's attire was also quite light and allowed her to move freely—because there was so little fabric indeed that it looked like she was wearing clothes meant for a child.

"Bebe?!" Scott called.

He stopped for a moment to listen.

Nothing.

"Please, somebody help meee!"

There! Behind those trees! But he doubted he would be fast enough to arrive in time: there were too many in the way. There was only one thing he could do.

Well, Cartman had it all planned: the pockets in his utility belt contained candy of various sorts. He opened one of them and grabbed its content, a chocolate bar. He gobbled it down as fast as he could, not even savoring it. As soon as its sugar invaded his blood stream, his body started to muscle. Another good property of that suit was that it was flexible enough not to tear with the transformation and it didn't bother him.

Scott charged against the trees in his way.

"No, no, no, wait!" Bebe shriek, twisting. "Why would you do that?!"

"Our evil Lord demands a sacrifice." a female porcupine replied with the same tone of voice one would use to answer the question of a kindergarten child.

"Can't you sacrifice a goat or a black cat or something else? Come on, please! Oh, my God, HEEEEEEELP!"

"I deduce she's screaming too much. It hurts my poor little ears." the mouse said.

The little bear and the fawn tore her nightgown and used it as a gag. Bebe kept screaming, but now her cries for help could barely be heard.

"That's muuuch better." the birdie smiled.

"Come on, y'all, let's do it!"

"Horraaaaay!"

The little animals gathered around the rock, their eyes gleaming in excitement. The beaver, with a blue hat on his head, jumped on top of Bebe's chest and raised his dagger, practically bigger than him. A few tears of terror ran down Bebe's cheeks.

But something happened that startled the animals. A big hand pushed half of them, grabbed the beaver and threw it away, ending up hitting the trunk of a tree.

"Oh, look, everyone!" the little animal got up, wobblign but alright. "It seems we have guests!"

"Just like our little friend told us." the bear said.

"Well, you know what he said: more guts and blood to offer to our Lord and savior!" the racoon jumped in glee.

"Hail Satan!"

The small rabbit attacked first, jumping to stab Scott in the back with his dagger. But someone came in the diabetic's rescue.

The rabbit fell to the ground with a slash in his throat, which made him emit the most horrible gurglings. The responsible for that stepped on his stomach, his claws dripping blood.

"Alright," The Coon said, "who goes next?"

"Oh, you meanie!" the chickadee and the woodpecker changed against his eyes.

Bebe didn't know what was going on but it was sure a lot. A big man had just appeared and tried to smash the critters, but they were moving too fast, crawling up his thick legs. She also saw the guy from the other night, the Coon, trying to shoo away the birds who tried to peck his eyes. if only she could move and run away from that madness, but she was stuck and those guys had it difficult enough to help her!

"Bebe!"

Who called her name? Bebe looked around but she found no one. Another animal, this time the skunk, jumped on top of her.

"Oh, Satan, receive this sacrifice as a proof of our devotion!"

That was it. She was going to die.

But something happened. Something come from nowhere mowed down the skunk. Then, it turned back and approached Bebe. Its big wings made her flinch.

"Don't be scared, we are here to help you!" a male voice said as he untied her.

Her heart was still racing, but she let out a relieved moan.

"Coon!" Wendy screamed. And when the birds turned around, she used the cane she had found hanging from her belt to hit them. She got to get the chickadee. When it was on the floor, she didn't give it a chance to get up and hit it again, and again, and again, and again, until she was sure he wouldn't get up anymore.

The woodpecker tried to attack her, but Coon grabbed him and broke his neck.

Scott got to shake the squirrel and stomp his head, reducing it to a red jelly on the ground, but there were so many more climbing up his legs. The beaver was biting his leg with the intention of cutting an artery and make him bleed to death. A few blood drops were already dying his big teeth. Scott grabbed it, having to pull because he had his teeth buried in his leg, provoking a tear, and hit him against the nearest rock repeteadly, until it went limp. He threw it away and tried to do the same with the others.

Now that Bebe was free, Clyde went to help him. He didn't like how red the bear's eyes were when he approached Scott. Flying like a dart, he grabbed it and both of them rested on the ground, Clyde on top of it. Before the bear could do anything, Clyde opened his hand. Something happened, like a broken bone which came out of his wrist or something...No, it was not a bone. What was it? It was flexible, but hard enough to go through the bear's eye and even his skull.

He had no idea of what it was, but he used it again against the porcupine.

"Oh!" she gasped, the tube piercing her chest, reaching her heart. Clyde saw that its color changed. The tube was sucking blood. It was disgusting, alright, but he didn't stop. The porcupine was dying from it, and it was making him feel great.

Cartman grabbed the racoon.

"There's only room for one coon in this town, bitch!" he said, and pierced his stomach with his claws. The mouse ran to bite him. He tried to kick it, but the mouse dodged him, and jumped to his neck. Wendy got to grab him and, using just one hand, because he was small enough, she choked him to death.

There were only two left: the fox and the deer.

"Oh, oh, it seems were are in trouble, Foxy." the deer commented to his friend.

"I am not going to let those brutes put his hands on me, Deery. Do you want me to save you the suffering?"

"Oh, yes, thank you, that would be so kind from you!"

So it was decided. Before Cartman and his friends could get rid of them, the fox grabbed his dagger not with the intention of using it against them, but to cut his friend's throat with a clean movement and then place it on the ground and jump on it, stabbing himself. The deer looked at the vigilantes, letting out a chocking giggle until he fell to the ground and didn't move.

There was a long silence. Scott grabbed the syringe he had stuck on his suspender and injected its content in his arm. Wendy ran to hold him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes...Don't worry..."

Clyde helped Bebe get up from the rock, where she had remained for security. She was so scared that she embraced Clyde. He could feel her trembling violently.

"It's alright. It's all over."

"Well, whoever brought these evil bastards back is not fooling around..." Cartman commented, kicking with the tip of his boots the headless body of the beaver.

"Who do you think did this?" Clyde covered Bebe's ears gently.

"Butters, obviously. He was very linked to Imaginationland in the past. But now he seems to be on the opposite side..."

"So this was the big plan he was talking about?" Wendy asked. "I heard him talk about something big...Was it breaking the wall again?"

"I don't think so. He wouldn't have brought just these two guys...Unless he wanted them to sacrifice Bebe and summon Satan..."

"This is getting really scary..." Scott muttered.

"I know. We foiled his plans but we will have to find him quick. Who knows if these were part of a bigger plot. But now, Clyde, take her home. Her family must be worried sick."

"Of course." Clyde removed his hands from her ears and made her look at him. "Hey. Listen, I am taking you home."

"Thanks a lot, Bug-Man, and everyone." Bebe said.

Clyde took her in his arms and flew away.

"I'm so glad we came here on time, oh, my God..." Wendy sighed. She looked at her whole body in disgust. She was full of blood. "Let's go back to the lake. If we're lucky, we won't find anyone and we will be able to clean ourselves before we go back home."


	21. What cannot be forgotten

When Gregory heard the door open and close, he walked out from the kitchen.

"Wendy! Ah, here you are! I called you but you left your phone on the night table. Where have you been? Why didn't you tell me you left?"

"I'm sorry, dear." Wendy kissed his lips. "I didn't want to wake you up. My mother called me...A family emergency."

"Oh, I see...Uh...Did something bad happen?"

"My grandmother, she fell. But don't worry, she's alright, she just got a few bruises."

"Ah, that's good to hear. Talking about your grandmother: I don't think we have been introduced. Maybe we could take his chance and pay her a visit and meet each other, what do you think?"

"Oh, well...You see, she's a little bit...how could I put it? ...Traditional."

"Traditional in the 'no boyfriends' sense?"

"Sort of."

"Well, it's alright. Maybe with a bit of time and the help of your parents..."

"Sure. Don't worry, I'm sure she will love you once she gets to know you."

"Do you want pancakes?"

"How am I going to say no?"

Truth be told, those monstruous critters and the bloodbath had turned her stomach but, yes, how could she say no to him, when he was so glad to cook for her?

There was also something else about which she had not been totally sincere: her grandma was not that conservative. It was just that it was too soon to introduce him to her—she was still digesting that her granddaughter was not with that 'lovely boy', Stan, anymore.

She climbed the stair to change her clothes. She wasn't wounded, right? Yes, grazed but not wounded. What was Cartman thinking about when he gave her those ridiculous clothes? Also, why did they have to wear them in the first place? Cartman could play superheroes if he wanted, but them? They were just special people, not heroes. She only accepted to do that because of Bebe. She was not a heroine, just a lady with the ability to snoop around.

 _Wake up Wendy, smell the coffee_

 _Help me into your custom kitchen_

 _Gimme a cup of that old black magic_

 _I wanna get me some of that old home cookin'_

Huh?

Who was...?

Wendy closed her eyes, tracking the origin of that video file.

She saw it. Elton John, singing on a stage. She read 'Chef Aid' on a banner. The camera focused on a stand, where she recognized herself. She was little, like eight years old or so. Stan was by her side, blushing. Wendy was looking at him, smiling. Where did that old record come from? She didn't even remember that.

The video was stopped. It belonged to a gallery. Its name was Wendy. And she soon had an idea of whose phone it belonged to, because there was a recurring person in those photos and videos.

Stan. There he was, always smiling, always by her side. She saw more photos: Stan was scrolling through them in that precise moment. In a costume party, when they were children, she was dressed as a prince and Stan as a princess. Many years later, that P!nk concert, a selfie they took from their seats, the same photo she had deleted from her phone not too long ago. Another video was played, showing a summer morning at the pool with their friends, when Wendy had developed enough to show off her body; she was pretending to drown Stan. Then, another photo of their last trip together to the West Coast; Stan looked pretty weird because he was growing his beard and was all sunburnt, but she was kissing him tenderly and he didn't seem to mind the contact. Stan seemed to watch that photo for long.

Then, he left the gallery, to the main folder. He selected the Wendy folder.

'Delete'

'Do you want to delete this folder?'

Wendy swallowed. Of course. It was Stan's turn to do it. Come on, Stan, why is it taking you so long?

But the button 'cancel' was pressed, and Stan got our from the gallery to call a number. Her number.

Her phone started to vibrate on Gregory's night table. She didn't grab it. With a wink of her eye, she replied to the call.

"...Stan."

"Hi, Wendy...Uhm, I didn't wake you up, right?"

"Not at all. What's the matter?"

"I just wanted to apologize."

"About what?"

"About being an asshole. Because I've been behaving like a plus-size asshole these last weeks. You are right. You are very right, as always. I don't have the right to tell you what to do with your life after leaving you like that. I had my chance and I wasted it. I'm glad you're with Gregory now. If you're happy with him and gives you all that I couldn't...that's all that matters. I hope you can forgive me for everything that I've done. Perhaps we can still be friends after all...or...I mean, tolerate each other."

"Well...Yes, I guess we can still...Thank you, Stan."

"Well...Uhm...That's really all I wanted to tell you. I'm sorry again."

"Don't worry about it, really. It's all forgotten."

"Sure...Goodbye, Wendy."

"...Goodbye, Stan." she replied, but Stan had already cut the communication.

He didn't use his phone anymore, even if he had tons of notifications unread.

"What are you doing, dear?"

Wendy was a bit startled by seeing Gregory at the door. For how long had he been there? She hoped he hadn't noticed she was talking without any device.

"Pancakes are ready."

"Okay, I'm coming."

"Do you want syrup with it?"

"Don't worry, I'll add the toppings myself."

They both descended to the kitchen, Wendy not thinking about the breakfast or even the woodland critters.

 _It's all forgotten..._ What a liar she was. As if she could erase all those years together with a click.

* * *

"Ike, can I talk to you for a second?"

Ike removed his headphones and looked inquisitively at his father, who closed the door of his bedroom after being on the alert, listening, for a moment.

"I'm very worried about your brother...Since the accident he's been acting strange, getting in so much trouble...I've talked to him but I see he's hasn't been sincere to me...You don't know anything about this, right?"

Some people said that it was hard to read the face of a Canadian, with those little eyes and fancy heads, but Gerald was Ike's father after all, he knew him, and saw that, when he answered no, he really meant it.

"I don't want to find out there's a problem when it's too late..."

"Did Mom...?"

"She thinks there's nothing to worry about." Ike couldn't help smiling. So this time his mother was more relaxed about her son's problems and his father was the one who worried? This was a funny turn! "She thinks all of this has to do with the trauma of the electrocution, that it will be gone with time, but I fear there's something else...What I want to ask you, Ike, is that, if Kyle tells you something or you see something suspicious..."

Ike quickly adopted a straight face.

"Sure, dad, I'll tell you."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

Gerald patted Ike's shoulder. "Thank you, son."

That was all before leaving the room. Ike went back to his Spotify playlist but he didn't pay attention to the music anymore.

The thing was that...his father was right. Kyle was acting really weird, spent a lot of time with his old friends or talking to them, he seemed distracted most of the time. There were times when he surprised him in a room or at the backyard and flustered. Not to mention the glasses he wore as if his life depended on it for some days. Yes, something was up with Kyle.

"I'm going to work, Mom!"

"Huh? Ah, alright, bubbe, have a good day!"

The door closed.

"Oh, they make him work on weekends again..."

That was what Ike needed to get up from the bed and put his sneakers on. He had memorized Kyle's work schedule because he always needed someone to drive him to places, and he was completely sure that is employer, a friend of his father, who knew the family was Jewish, would never risk himself to be sued by a Jewish employee for making him work on Shabbat. Kyle was going somewhere, lying to his family.

* * *

Kyle closed the door. There was nobody in the storing unit, which was good, because he didn't like exhibiting his powers that much. He had the feeling that he performed better when no one was watching.

Timmy, who worked as a camp monitor on summers, had gotten some bullseyes. Craig also bought a few mannequins he had found in a thrift shop. Somebody seemed to have practiced with those, because one if it was melted.

It was his turn now. He made his neck crack, tilting it to one side and the other, then exhaled the air out of his lungs; and next to that, he waved his arms in order to stretch himself.

He stopped. That gesture shouldn't have provoked that air wave, as if he had had enormous fans in his hands.

Perhaps...

Hey, Tweek thought he could just heal and then was able to freeze too. Perhaps he had additional powers too.

It was exciting, so exciting that Kyle forgot about the lasers. He waved his hands again as if he was bouncing imaginary basketball balls.

He jumped, and it was an involuntary move.

Enthusiastic, he repeated it, longer. He ascended four feet from the floor.

He was starting to get the drift, it encouraged him to try harder. He opened his arms with a strong movement, and he was propelled up like a rocket. He floated. He just had to think he wanted to stay up and there he stayed.

Kyle couldn't believe that was happening. He was flying. He felt the air tickling his body, holding him, light but firm. It was such a marvellous thing that he couldn't help laughing.

But the laugh was brief, and he chocked on it. Someone was at the door of the unit, looking at him. It was a familiar face. A face which seemed cut in two. It was his little brother.

"Ike!"

The magic was gone. Kyle descended to the round clumsily, almost falling brusquely. He walked to Ike, not sure of what to do or say feeling his blood froze inside of his veins.

"Ike...What are you...You...I know this is weird but..."

Oh, that face. He was so shocked, the poor boy.

"You have nothing to worry about, I don't mean to hurt anybody and..."

"That. Was. So. COOL!"

Ike couldn't get any closer, his beady eyes open with ecstasy.

"How did you do that?! You were flying! Flying! Oh, Jesus! Since when?! Wait...The electrocution! That's right! It gave you superpowers! That comic stuff was true after all! And I squashed that spider in the bathroom this morning! Geez, Kyle! You have any idea of what you just did?!"

"Yeah, yeah, calm down, don't shout! Did you come alone?"

"Yes."

"Good. Listen: you can't tell anybody about this."

"Of course! They'd capture you and run experiments on you!"

"Yeah, and imagine what Mom would do if she found out."

"Oh! No, no, no, she mustn't know!"

"That's right. This is between you and I, alright? You promise!"

"I swear on my life. Okay, but I want to scream so bad. You can fly!"

"It has something to do with the air. But that's not all: I got lasers too."

"Lasers? Let me see."

"Uh, no, I'd better..."

"Come ooooon!"

Kyle shrugged. Well, why not? He was busted already. He turned towards one of the bullseyes and a flash made a hole in its center. Ike jumped and gasped in awe.

"This is super!"

"Thanks. But remember: you can't tell a soul about this. And don't you dare post anything in Internet about me! Nevermore!"

"Sure, alright, of course, I won't. You think I am a dummy?"

"Yes, you are." More relaxed now, Kyle grabbed his brother and rubbed his kuckles on his head.

"Stop, you bully!" Ike laughed. Once he got to break free from him, he smirked. "Come on, I want to see you do your stuff!"

"Okay, feast your eyes, because you're not going to see it again."

"Uh-Uh. You evidently have no idea of what you have there. There's so much potential you're missing. That's why you need assistance. From now on, I will be your Alfred. Your Jimmy Olsen. Your-"

"Wait, wait, wait. What?"

Ike winked. "All good superheroes have a sidekick."


	22. The crippling truth

Everything Wendy posted on her social media was, apart from posts in line with her political views, quotes about second chances and trust, photos of her and Gregory—romantic crap. It didn't bother Bebe, she was happy for her. Well, in fact, it made her jealous too. She had been totally wrong about Henry. He was cute, yes, and travelled a lot, but that was all about it. It seemed all of his money came from his mommy dear and so she had him grabbed by the balls. When they were not attending a concert, visiting some landmark or making out, and actually had the chance to talk, there was nothing minimally interesting he could say. He knew nothing about the world outside of Twitter and Netflix. And was her increasing disgust of him what was making his voice sound annoying or did he always talk like that and her ears were clouded by the attraction? That jerk didn't even ask her about the kidnappings or offered her protection. The big asshole.

More and more she found herself fantasizing about the masked guy who saved her from the woodland critters. Too bad that his face was hidden behind a helmet. His voice sounded very manly. The care with which he took care of her...Oh, what was his name, even? If only she could know! Even a masked flying guy she knew nothing about was better than that guy.

Bebe thought she knew how to escape.

"Excuse me, I have to go to the toilet for a second."

"Sure, babe, you want another drink?"

"No, thanks, I'm actually more hungry than I'm thirsty."

"I'll order some chips or something, then."

Sure, sure, whatever. Good thing he didn't notice what grabbing her purse meant.

The club was packed at that hour, it was hard to make her way out. She had the feeling that she spilled a couple of drinks and elbowed a few people, but she couldn't help it.

But there was something not accidental at all: that big hand grabbing her wrist. And, immediately after that, an arm chocked her, forcing her towards a different direction.

"Hey! You! Leave me alone! Let me go!"

No one could hear her with the music so loud.

She tried to turn around to see what was happening, who was dragging her. She could only see a strong chin under a dark hood. Wait, there was someone else. Also in a hood, pushing her—touching her butt in the process. Did no one find those clothes suspicious, considering how hot the weather was?

"HELP!"

But no one heard her, or just plain ignored her.

However, someone did see her.

Jimmy had been lucky that night, getting the attention of a lovely ginger with glasses—Sherry, her name was. She danced very well and very close, tracing his chin strap beard with her finger. Jimmy had to make an effort to control himself. He closed his eyes, biting his under lip, feeling Sherry's hips in his hands. When he opened them, the first thing he saw was a familiar face, from Elementary, being dragged by two individuals, not very far from where he was—from her face he saw that it was not part of a racy game. He regretted having to leave his prize, but he was kind enough to write his phone number in her arm before leaving, adding a short note telling her it was a pleasure. With a great speed, he crossed the space and dodged the other clients.

"Come on, keep going, bitch!" the shortest man had opened one of the back doors of a black car.

"Your mom's a bitch, you asshole!" Bebe fought, so suddenly and with such ferocity that the biggest stopped. "I've had enough with all of this assault crap!"

She kicked her kidnapper in the gonads, so the other couldn't help releasing her, howling in pain.

"Catch her, stupid!" the other commanded.

But Bebe punched him in the face and the pain gave her the chance to go back to the door, right when it opened and Jimmy appeared.

"Jimmy!" she cried.

"HEY!" Jimmy confronted the attackers.

"I'm gonna call the doormen!" Bebe told him, running back inside the disco.

"Well, look who's here...It had to be you..."

The biggest kidnapper was running to the copilot seat. As for his partner, he grabbed a shotgun from under his seat and fired. Jimmy was quick enough to dodge it. The other didn't wait to see if he had missed, he immediately got into the car and drove away at an imprudent speed in such a little town. Jimmy ran to position himself in front of it, but that guy didn't hesitate and tried to run him over. Once again, Jimmy's speed saved him.

He decided to follow them and catch them where there wouldn't be any people in danger, making his atoms vibrate fast in order to go unnoticed. Being an attempt of kidnapping, there had to be more people implied, he thought.

The pair didn't reduce the speed until they reached the old Denkins farm. They stopped there and walked out of the car.

"How could she escape, Mimsy? Huh?"

The driver removed his hood. Jimmy confirmed his suspicions about that voice sounding familiar to him: it was no other than Nathan, that Down syndrome guy who used to bother him as a child.

"Well, boss, she kicked me in the nuts. It hurt!" the other removed his hood too. Of course, that was Mimsy. While Nathan hadn't grown up much height-wise, he had become quite a bull.

"I'd love to kick you in the nuts too...What are we going to say to the boss?"

"Oh, did something happen, boys?"

Someone approached, someone the pair seemed to expect to show up later. Jimmy didn't expect him at all, that's why he didn't make himself visible to confront them. Honestly, he was too shocked to act as an avenger.

What the heck was he doing there, with those two?

"The girl escaped!" Mimsy replied.

"Shut up, Mimsy. Let me speak." Nathan took a step forward. "Yes, she was wary. And Jimmy Fucking Valmer showed up in the last minute, so we couldn't catch her."

"Yes, perhaps we were too impatient, not letting too much space between the attacks...Well, you can't win them all, but you two did a great job. Here is what I promised you."

Nathan counted the dollar bills he was given as soon as they were handed to him, with the speed and accuracy of someone used to count money.

"Next time we won't fail."

"Good to know. I trust you two."

A pause. Mimsy, who seemed to be part of the background, looked stupidily at the sky filled with stars.

"I thought you were kidding when you told us those guys were different now. It was quite a suprise." Nathan raised an eyebrow behind his big glasses.

"That's why I told you to be careful. Jimmy...He didn't follow you, did he?"

"I shot at him."

"...Right...Well, that is all for today, gentlemen. I will contact you when time is right. Good night."

The third person walked away, heading towards the town. Nathan and Mimsy remained there for a little while before heading to the car.

"I thought the casino was fine, boss. Now we are hitmen too?"

A loud slap broke the peaceful silence.

"Shut up, Mimsyyyy!"

The car disappeared in the dark of the night. Just in case, Jimmy waited a bit to make himself visible again.

He quickly grabbed his phone. He had to tell Wendy, she would contact the others much quicker than if he called them one by one. He hoped she or the others would believe him.

A soft engine sound made him turn around, ready to use his crutches to break someone's head.

"S-Shit, Timmy! You scared me! What are you doing here at this time?! Well, look, listen, you wouldn't believe what I just saw! Butters was not behind everything that has been ha-happening after all! There's more people! People we know! They kn-kn-know about our powers! But that's not all: this guy's been pay-pay-pay-pay-paying Nathan and Mimsy to kidnap Bebe!"

Timmy frowned—at least that was what Jimmy thought, because it was very dark in there.

"What the hell does he ha-have against Bebe? And...I don't know, maybe he has something to do with the opening of the po-portal? My head's gonna blow, man, and the Martini has nothing to do with it! Come on, now that you're here, why don't you send everybody a mental message to warn them? I can go back to the disco to che-check on Bebe."

 _["Jimmy..."]_

"Yeah?"

 _[...Why couldn't you mind your own business?"]_

Jimmy felt as if his head had been plunged into freezing water. He tried to take a step, one single step, but the muscles of his legs, of his whole body, didn't respond. He could only look at Timmy before emptiness swallowed him.


	23. The showdown

**Guest: I am not going to give away anything, but you will find out in just a couple of chapters ;-) The story is coming to an end!**

* * *

Although his friends had a good reason to investigate the attacks they had suffered and thanks to them he had obtained some information that could be useful, Kenny did not tell them a thing about his fight against General Disarray, Butter's threat or anything related to the subject. It was not that he didn't trust them, but they were not the most adequate partners precisely: they only knew the basics about their powers, and he was the one who held a legit secret identity since he was a fourth grader while they were playing the superheroes. No, they wouldn't be much of a help in that aspect. Also, Butters could rip his head off and he would still be standing, which was not their case.

...He didn't want to admit that his last words to him had sowed suspicion to people around him...

That was a pretty quiet night. It seemed that the criminals had been so intimidated about the Coon and the rumors of other masked freaks that not many dared to risk their necks. Mysterion found himself with very little to do apart from going over and over that matter which was obsessing him. He could only sleep taking little naps now and then, when his job allowed him. That horrible feeling that something would happen was slowly draining all his energy. In those moments he wandered the rooftops, feeling the air waving his cape and clearing his mind.

"No! Wait! Wait!"

"Charlie, what's wrong? You look like you'd seen a ghost!"

"Worse than that...We've been invaded!"

Mysterion stopped and leaned forward, so much that he looked as if he was going to fall to the ground, to see the origin of those voices three stories below. But he saw no one. Only something white that was lying on the pavement. Wait...Mysterion squinted. Then, he slipped down a downspout to get to the ground and listened closely. What he had seen were underpants, of different sizes and forms, and they were not just lying there: little men, half their size, with pointy hats, were carrying them.

"Rays?! What do you mean rays?!"

"He killed them! He just...He just appeared and...Rays came out of his hands and...Oh, gosh, that awful smell!" the gnome dropped on his knees and cried hysterically.

"No..No, it can't be!"

"Don't listen to him, he must have been drinking again!"

"Tell us you're joking!"

"I wish! I was close enough to the exit to escape in time..."

Mysterion didn't wait to hear the rest. He left the scene as if he had never been there, and, still like a ghost, he crossed the town towards the woods. He still knew the way, after all those years—one couldn't easily forget the place where a cart crushed him.

* * *

 _PHASE ONE: Steal underpants_

 _PHASE TWO: ?_

 _PHASE THREE: Profit_

Professor Chaos smirked. He looked away from the planning to observe the wide dome above him, stepping on the little, fried corpse of a gnome, without even noticing. Next, he cast his eyes upon the five tunnels around him. If he was not mistaken, those connected to the different areas of the town.

He took a step towards the nearest one—but he stopped. Mysterion, behind him, prepared to punch. Chaos discharged a ray in his chest, making him fly across the cave.

"Mysterion! You found me!" Professor Chaos opened his arms, still emitting sparks. "I knew you would."

Mysterion got up with a groan.

"I would have felt really disappointed if you hadn't. You're my favorite game partner. All the people I've found to these day were no fun."

"So that's what this is all for you? A game?"

"You know what they say: if you have to do something, try to make it amusing."

Mysterion had no intention of losing his time with useless chatter and tried to take the most of his opponent's will to talk attacking him. But Chaos was not that distracted, and grabbed his hand, throwing him another bolt which made him fall to the ground.

"...You killed people..." Mysterion grunted.

"They were not that innocent. No one here is."

"Well, I came to put a stop to this once and for all." the masked vigilante got up.

Professor Chaos approached him, his blue eyes shining with a tiger's ferocity while smiling like a little boy.

"You've never killed anybody in your life. You don't have what it takes."

Mysterion held his stare. Two sapphires in a black background.

"There's always a first time to everything."

He didn't give Chaos time to react. He punched his stomach as hard as he could. A groan escaped from the Professor's lips and he bent. But that didn't mean he was at a disadvantage. He grabbed Mysterion's arm and produced a discharge which made Mysterion convulse and feel he was burning. After that, he elbowed him in the nose, and Mysterion heard and felt it break. With a kick in the abdomen, he was sent to the ground, still shaking because of the electrocution.

"It hurts me to do this to you, Kenneth." his actions contradicted his words: he pressed a foot on his chest, making it difficult to breath or stand up. "Out of all boys in class you were the most acceptable. Look, why don't you leave all that hero crap? Don't you feel tired?"

"I...ung...said it to Disarray and I'll say it to you...Whatever happens, I will never do anything that will harm this town."

"Will you let yourself die for it?"

"Yes."

Professor Chaos clicked his tongue.

"Well, alright. Then I guess you can bury yourself with it."

He stood straight and closed his eyes. Whatever he was doing, he was making the ground tremble. A bit of rubble fell over them. One could hear the pillars crack. Mysterion looked around, and he understood. He had come there to provoke an earthquake. The gnomes built their galleries under the whole town and even beyond. The whole place was supported on those wood pillars. If the violence of the shake increased, South Park would crumble.

"Don't do it!"

"Oh." Professor Chaos grinned. Like a brat, he did totally the opposite of what he was being told. The sounds Mysterion was hearing were not promising at all.

"If this place goes to hell, you will be buried too!"

Professor Chaos laughed again. 'I love it when people take me as some kind of idiot', his lips muttered without pronouncing them aloud. Although he wished Mysterion to know about the protection his cape conceded him, he was in the best part of the night and he was not going to spoil it with explanations.

Above them, Big Gay Al, after feeling the bed tremble, told Mr. Slave not to make love to him so hard, because they would wake their baby up.

"Seriously, Butters, you need help." Chaos grinned wider. Oh, he loved that music, hearing Mysterion talk desperately. "The electrocution had to melt some wire in your brain. You were never like this. You were a good guy."

The other's smile disappeared suddenly.

"And you see what I got for being a good guy?!" Professor Chaos stomped on his chest, making him lose his breath for a moment. "All my life I've been pleasing others, they've pushed me around and I never complained!"

The anger triggered more sparks that covered his body.

"The electrocution gave me clarity. Too bad it didn't have the same effect on you. I really regret having to kill you, but you leave me no choice."

It was Mysterion's turn to let out a bitter chuckle.

"You think you can kill me...Tell me more..."

That was enough chatter, Professor Chaos thought, irritated by his opponent's laugh. He would kill Mysterion and then get the job done. Rays concentrated in his right arm. He was ready to give him a fatal shock, even greater than the one which killed and ultimately gave him his powers. But everything happened so quickly he couldn't defend himself: Mysterion slipped beneath his legs to then hit his lower back. Mysterion immobilized him on the ground, making his helmet fall. Chaos extended one and to grab his face and discharged. It burnt Mysterion's mask and left ugly marks on his face, not to talk about that terrible dizziness, but he didn't back down. Although stunned, he grabbed the arm and with a brusque movement he made it crack in a very painful angle. While Professor Chaos was screaming, Mysterion grabbed the other and hit it too near the elbow, breaking it.

The trembling stopped and the ground seemed static again. Professor Chaos gritted his teeth. He didn't scream anymore. He didn't want to die screaming. He didn't want him to see him scream. He waited for the final blow looking at his killer with all the ferocity he could inspire.

The end never came. Mysterion's face remained cold as stone but he didn't move.

When he did, he removed his mask and hood, showing his rival the face of an old friend, a person he had grown up with, side by side. A trace of blood coming out of his nose had dried, although his nose was now intact.

"Come on...Come on! What are you waiting for?!" Professor Chaos shouted.

"..."

"Do it!"

"...We can go on like this all time you want, but you will never kill me. You can't win, Leo."

"Professor Chaos!"

"Leo...Don't you feel tired?"

The villain tried to kick him but he had little strength left. It was something painful to see, how he struggled to keep doing harm when he was more or less able to bear the pain. Mysterion, out of pity, gave him space to breath, and he tried to electrocute him, but he was barely able to produce a few sparks. Mysterion crouched by his side.

Butters finally closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. That was the kind of sigh Kenny had seen in old people close to death, on his own father coming come after two or even more shifts of work. He was so tired. And accepting it seemed to relieve him. He hoped he had finally understood it was senseless to go on like this.

Mysterion helped him stand up, careful not to do more harm to his broken arms. Butters seemed like a puppet whose strings had been cut off, silent, motionless, breathing painfully.

"What did you call me before?" he asked in no more than a whisper.

"Leo. Leopold. That's your real name, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's just that...People have always called me Buters..."

Silence. Butters snorted—was it a laugh or a groan?

"I really admire your sacrifice, Kenny...But...it's heartbreaking how you sacrifice yourself for people who have been stabbing you in the back..."

"There's good people in South Park dying for."

"I am not talking about the town...But a certain person. Someone you call a friend..."

Butters took a pause to breath deeply.

"You know him. Oh, yeah, you know him veeery well...He's been playing with you. He's been playing with everyone. We have been acting like pawns without knowing it...I didn't open the portal to Imaginationland, and I have nothing to do with people attacking the gang—but he wanted to put the blame on me. He wanted you to follow the wrong people."

"...Who are you talking about?"

"Think. I created chaos for my own amusement and recruited people who believed in chaos just for the sake of chaos. But who actually benefits from this? Who would want to see vigilantes in South Park? Who makes a profit out of all the situation?"

The wrinkle in Mysterion's frown made Butter's eyes gleam.

"I was being honest when I told you I really appreciated you. That's why I am going to give you a clue...Have you examined the gun General Disarray had? He gave it to him...to make things more interesting."

Mysterion took a step back and used the radio he had in his suit.

"Barbrady!"

 _"Who-What-Wh-!"_

"Officer, the gun confiscated to General Disarray! What can you tell me about it?"

 _"The gun? Ah, yeah, I have the inform here...Somewhere...Do you mind waiting a second? I don't know if it's in this folder or...Ah, no, this is the fridge..."_

"This is not the end...We will meet soon...Friend..." Mysterion didn't hear those words coming out of Butter's lips—they were too low for him to catch them, anyway. He was too focused on what Barbrady was telling him from the other side of the radio.

"Oh, come on..."

 _"Ah, here! No, wait, this is not it...'Buy eggs?' Ah! Here! Here it is! Mysterion, you there?"_

"Yes, I am!"

 _"Good! Uhm, it is an assault rifle, a new model with all the technological advantages. The company is pretty recent but seems to know how to do things right, because is becoming very popular these days. The other day I commented to Jimbo Kern that most of his stuff comes from this company; since all this riot stuff happened folks have been buying guns from them in mass. Effective range of 330 yards, fully automatic firing..."_

"Did Kern tell you if Disarray bought it from his store?"

 _"Well, if he did he didn't use his ID as Doug O'Connell. We are still figuring out where the heck he got it from—you know that there are states in which you can buy a gun without having to identify yourself. It didn't have the serial number, you know? Perhaps it was a defect in its manufacture..."_

"...What is the name of the enterprise which commercializes those weapons?"

 _"Here it is. Uhmm..."_

Mysterion's eyes opened wide when Barbrady pronounced the words.

"That son of a bitch!" he exclaimed.

He cut the communication right after that. He turned towards Butters, to find out that he was alone. When did he leave and where? What did he plan to do, with both his arms broken? He felt a pressure in his chest, but he didn't think much longer about him. They would meet again. He was sure of that. But now, now he had to warn his friends.

He didn't stop cursing under his breath as he ran. That son of a bitch, that big motherfucker...


	24. The best boyfriend

Wendy started her vacation period that day. That goodness. She needed some time to rest. She felt like some kind of mental fog taking control of her brain, making it difficult to focus on anything and stealing all her energy. Her mother insisted until she went to see a doctor. Of course, he determined that there was nothing wrong with her, the accident had not left any sequels. It had to be stress. She let her parents take their own conclusions about the origin of said stress—she had an idea of what it could be. Her secret. And something else with a name and a surname, of which she didn't want to even think about.

There was something that helped dealing with it. Gregory. Her lovely boyfriend Gregory. When she needed to talk, he talk; if she needed time on her own, he was distant. His arms were warm, something not that pleasant with the heat of the summer but the best, most secure place in the world to be. And his kisses, how he covered her face with kisses!

"You know you can tell me what is worrying you...If you don't want my opinion, I won't say a thing and I will be all ears, nothing else. I love you, Wendy."

"I know...But..."

How could he understand? What was happening to her was so incredible...But it was Gregory, after all. The one who directed a revolution when he was just eight years old. A very cultivated and wise young man, who attended one of the best universities in America. She would show him she was not joking. She would answer all his questions. She loved him and he loved her.

"There is indeed something you should know..."

She turned around so that he could see her face.

Gregory's phone vibrated inside the pocket in his chest.

"Read it."

"Later, now I am talking to you."

"No. Really. Read it."

Gregory obeyed. After doing so, he turned his eyes to Wendy.

"...What is the meaning of this?"

The big question. Wendy took deep breath, as if she was going to jump in a pool. She told him. She told him everything from the beginning, since the night when a seemingly innoffensive fair ride almost killed her. She made sure she didn't leave any detail out. Her voice was trembling, she made a lot of pauses, but she told him everything.

When she finally closed her mouth, she felt as if she had gotten rid of a very heavy burden. She didn't dare to look at Gregory during the first minute. She looked away to her lap, where her clasped fingers rested. Gregory was quiet, still.

"Wendy. Wendy, look at me."

Wendy turned her head back to him. Gregory was looking at her with a soft expression, caressing her cheeks with his thumb.

"You don't need to be scared. This is extraordinary, but I swear on my life that I will take the secret to my grave. I will never let anything bad happen to you or your friends."

"So...I don't freak you out?"

"I am surprised, as natural, but...that is all. I know you, Wendy. I know you are a well-ballanced woman who would never harm anybody in her life."

"Well, I don't know how I'd be able to hurt someone with this."

Gregory kissed her. "Trust me, dear."

"I trust you." Wendy smiled. "And I am so thankful for it."

She already knew, but that reaction confirmed it: she had been blessed having him as a boyfriend. Only someone as reasonable as he was could have reacted with such calm. How she loved him...And he had proved that he loved her as well. Fear was replaced by the feeling that she had everything she could ever ask for.

"Wendy." Gregory broke the idyllic atmosphere minutes later, pushing her away very gently. "I'm sorry, but I have to go for a second. I have to go to the grocery."

"Screw the grocery. Stay..." Wendy whispered, grabbing his wrist to attract him to her and kiss him in the lips.

"Don't you want to eat tonight?"

"We can call City Wok, come ooon..."

"We have been eating from that restaurant two days in a row. Come on, I want to cook you my family's specialty."

"What is it?"

"You won't find out unless you let me go."

"A little clue, at least?"

"Vanilla." Gregory whispered.

"Well, alright, I'll let you go." Wendy let him go and stayed there, lying on the carpet, smiling at him playfully. "But come back soon."

"I will. I'm taking the car."

Gregory went to his bedroom to change his clothes and left. Wendy stayed in the living room, reading the latest history magazines, although she was still thinking about Gregory's reaction. 'Careful', Red had told her once, 'No man is that perfect', she had said. Where she was from, that had a name: jealousy. There was one, and she had caught him.

Sighing, Wendy got up and was about to go to the kitchen to get some soda when she noticed something on the little coffee table. Gregory's wallet and the keys of his car. She smiled. So he had decided to go there by foot. Okay, but how did he intend to pay at the grocery store? Well, that gave her the chance to show him his powers. She closed her eyes and focused. Gregory's phone. Where was he? Her body turned unintentionally, showing her the way. Oh, he was not very far. He hadn't arrived to the store yet, he was at the playground. She could give him the wallet personally, and grab a few things she had forgotten to ask him to buy.

Wendy left the house and walked to his encounter. Funny, he didn't move from there. What was he doing? Riding on a rocking horse?

When she arrived, she found him sat on a bench near the basketball court. He was obviously lying about his intention of going to the store and coming back soon—he wasn't in a hurry absolutely. Before she catch his attention, she saw that someone came to his encounter. Someone Gregory seemed to have been waiting for.

That someone was Timmy. Wendy stopped. She...completely ignored that Gregory and Timmy knew each other. Timmy moved to South Park after the war against Canada, when Gregory left the school. Perhaps they met outside of class, somewhere.

It was still strange. They didn't seem to be pleased to see each other. After the greeting, Gregory did not look at Timmy's face. And she had never seen Timmy so serious.

She hid behind the toilets. What she was about to do was wrong, but she was intrigued. There was something happening there. She activated a call in Gregory's phone, which he placed in his chest pocket, and the speaker.

"Did he? I don't know he could make himself invisible. Why didn't you tell me that, Timothy? Did I tell you never to hide any piece of information from me?"

"..."

"I have the unpleasant feeling that you want to deceive me...And you know what will happen if you play tricks on me."

"..."

"That's what I thought. I really hope he does not cause us trouble."

"..."

"Good. Listen, our plan to kidnap Bebe failed. We got to attack her once, twice, but she wasn't willing to go through that thrice. Obviously. I guess we can leave her alone for a while, until she lets down her guard. I have been thinking that this time we can takle that teenager...Tricia Tucker."

"..."

"I know she is Craig's younger sister. That would make everything more interesting, don't you think?"

"..."

"My dear friend, I am not asking you your opinion. I am telling you. It seems Tricia is a sleepwalker...Imagine what would happen if tonight she left her home and someone dangerous found her, unaware, unprotected...Imagine if she was dragged to the crab people's nest."

"..."

"Calm down, Timothy, you know nothing bad is going to happen to her...Well, it all depends on your friends' skills. All you have to do is send them a warning. Sometimes you worry too much."

Wendy felt as if time had passed in a matter of seconds and she was in the most crude part of winter. Shivers went down her spine. She...She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

She peeped around the corner. She had to see it. She needed to see it because she couldn't believe it.

Timmy's eyes turned.

 _["Wendy."]_

Wendy was too startled to move. Timmy had caught her.

 _["Run away, Wendy. Tell the others what you heard."]_

But she didn't. Not in time. Gregory finally looked at Timmy to the eyes.

"...Is there someone around, Timothy? Something I should know?"

"Timmy." Timmy replied, looking away.

"Telepathic, please. You know I can't understand you."

"..."

"There is someone here, right? Someone who shouldn't be here."

"..."

"You know what will happen if you betray me, Timothy. Let me repeat the question: is there someone around?"

Timmy closed his eyes. Wendy, who was at the gates of the playground, stopped. Her body had frozen completely, she couldn't move, she was left in that posture.

Suddenly, she found herself in front of Gregory and Timmy, unable to make her muscles respond. Facing her old classmate, who looked away painfully, suffering a few violent spasms, and her boyfriend. Those eyes which had been so full of love just a while ago.

"Wendy." Gregory stood up. He used again the sweet voice he addressed her with. "What are you doing here? Don't tell me you were too impatient to wait for me."

"Don't touch me, Gregory!" Wendy exclaimed.

"What's wrong, my dear? I just found Timothy here—we met a few months ago. He told me he was in your class at Elementary and we talked-"

"Swallow your lies, you bastard! Since when did you know all of this?! Why the fuck have you been doing this to Bebe?!"

Gregory's expression changed. A subtle change that made Wendy's heart beat faster.

He was no more the lovely boyfriend she was thanking God for.

"It is very rude to listen to people's conversations, Wendy...Now what should I have to do with you?"

"Timmy..." Timmy said.

"Shut up. Make her go back home. If you can leave her catatonic so that she won't cause trouble, it will be better."

 _["I am very sorry, Wendy..."]_

Wendy gulped. Gregory was getting closer and closer, and Timmy was not going to help her.

"Stan...Stan, please, help m..." she muttered. But she did not get to finish the sentence. Everything went black to her. Timmy made her feet touch the ground and they started moving. Anyone who saw her would think there was no problem with her—perhaps that she was in a bad mood or absent-minded, because her face was as inexpressive as a corpse's.

Gregory saw her walk away and took a way to arrange his shirt.

"Stan..." he wrinkled his nose.

After a second of thought, he turned towards Timmy.

"Did she send a message to Stan?"

 _["...It seems so. Stan is reading it right now."]_

"Alright. It's fine. Send him a distraction while I take care of Wendy. Did you understand? I don't want him to see her. Send him something big, unavoidable and unfair...Wait. I know what you can send him...Send him his own friends."

So he followed his girlfriend.

Timmy, alone, felt like crying. He didn't want to do this. Anything but that. But he had no choice.

He pressed his index finger against his temple.

Token was cooking dinner. Tweek cleaned a few cups of coffee. Scott was about to touch the doorknob of his bedroom. Craig was listening to music. Clyde had just stepped inside Raisins. Jimmy was just sitting on his bed, waiting for instructions. They were all teleported in front of Timmy.

"Eh?!" Clyde looked around. That was not Raisins and those were not the girls.

"What the fuck?!" Tweek exclaimed.

The only one who didn't react was Jimmy. The rest of them were soon deprived of all surprise.


	25. Civil War

"Next time Cousin Kyle comes, make him fly! I'm sure he'll be like: 'eeeeeh, my nose's bleeding!', hahaha!" Ike was still talking. He wouldn't stop. And he didn't talk with a reasonable volume either.

"Heh. No, I don't want him to start whimpering and tell Mom." Kyle couldn't help smiling at the idea. "But, hey, don't shout."

"Sorry."

"Ah, look, there he is."

Kyle was surprised to see Stan and Cartman at his door—Cartman already wearing that stupid Coon uniform, which made Sheila stay at the door and watch.

"Kyle! Where the fuck have you been?" Stan shouted, running towards him.

"I'm here, I'm here, what's happened?" Kyle asked, seeing how frayed his best friend looked.

"I got this text from Wendy! Asking for help! I called her but she's not answering! Something happened to her!"

"We've been calling the others to see if they had seen her and they are not answering either." Cartman informed. "There is something very wrong happening here."

"What's the matter? Where are you going, Kyle?" Sheila shouted from the door.

"Nothing, anonymous citizen! I am taking for son for a mission!" Cartman replied. And added under his breath: "Meddling bitch..."

"Okay...Uh...She must have been with Gregory...She's with that guy all the time...He has to know where she is, or where he saw her for the last time." Stan suggested.

"Yeah, let's go." Kyle opened his car again and all of them got into it. Ike too.

"No, Ike, you're not coming." his brother told him.

"Why not?" he protested.

"This could be dangerous."

"The fatass is coming." Ike pointed at Cartman.

"I'm not fat, stupid!" Cartman protested.

"Come on, let's go, we can't lose more time!" Stan shouted.

"Okay, but you're staying in the car." Kyle ended the discussion, making the car move.

"It's not fair...I am a knight." Ike crossed his arms and pouted.

"Yeah, from _Canada_." Cartman remarked.

"Says the grown-up guy who wears a racoon disguise..."

"Do you have something against racoons?!"

"Shut up you two!" Kyle exclaimed. "There could be something very serious happening here."

"It has to be. Else, why would she...?" Stan muttered.

Much to his regret, Stan knew where Gregory of Yardale lived. Actually, it wasn't that difficult to tell: his family was pretty wealthy, most probably the second richest family after Token's. Their house wasn't as common as the ones one could find all around the town.

They were near when they found a human barrier.

They were their friends.

Kyle stopped the car and stuck his head out of the window. "Guys! We've been trying to find you! Do you know what happened to Wendy?"

There was no response. Instead, Scott moved forward. He had something in his hand. The others couldn't see what it was from where they were, but they saw him swallow it. It had to be sugar, because his muscles started to swell.

"Whoa! You didn't tell me that!" Ike's eyes opened wide.

His brother didn't reply. Something was not right.

Transformed, Scott walked to them. He then dealt a blow on the hood of the car which made the whole vehicle jump.

"Hey!" Cartman shouted. "What the hell's your problem?!"

Another hit. Craig punched the copilot's window, where Stan was sitting, and grabbed him, forcing him to come out.

"But weren't these your friends?!" Ike asked, hunched over.

"Guys! What the fuck are you doing?!" Kyle shouted, coming out of the car before Scott squashed him inside of it.

Outside, Token was ready to get him. He grabbed him by the neck with this two hands, pushed him to the ground and started squishing. Kyle fought, kicked his legs in the air. Cartman came to the rescue, grabbing Token to knock him with a headbutt. A sudden pain made him scream. Tweek was approaching, sparks coming out of his arms.

"You can throw lighting volts too?! That's not fair, you greedy bastard!" he protested.

Tweek didn't care. He kept attacking him with them, while Token recovered, not showing any sign of pain in spite of that terrible-looking hit.

"Guys! It is us!" Stan had to roll before Craig punched him in the face. He left a hole in the pavement. "Why are you doing this?!"

Ike was about to leave the car, in spite of his brother's orders, when something went through it. Ike didn't stay to watch it; Clyde seemed to be willing to show him a few more times. Standing on the roof of the car, he pierced it with his proboscises, trying to get him. He tasted Ike's blood after he got to scratch him, but the teenager succeded in coming out. Clyde jumped to get him, and Ike received him with a punch. He ran towards the trunk and quickly grabbed the wrench and hit Clyde before he could grab him.

Seeing Ike with that tool gave Stan what he needed to fight. He extended and arm and the tools Kyle had to take care of his car went straight to him. Although he didn't wish to hurt his friend, he had started. Using a screwdriver, he made him fall to the ground.

"Stan!" Kyle called him. Token and Tweek were attacking him at the same time and he had to jump, almost looking as if he was dancing, to avoid losing his feet. "Go ask Gregory for help! He's right there!"

"What?! No! We need him here!" Cartman protested.

"That's precisely the idea: he has to get help!"

"I'll be right back, guys!" Stan, with a screwdriver in each hand, got both Craig and Jimmy out of the way and started running.

Kyle managed to use an air wave to push Tweek and Token away from him. Scott charged.

"Hey! Leave my brother alone!" Ike shouted, throwing the wrench to his head.

Scott didn't even seem to notice. Praying to his god, Kyle extended an arm towards him and used the air to lift him in the air and throw him aside.

Jimmy hit Cartman in the face with his crutches and then in the back of the head, making him fall to the ground. When he approached, Cartman scratched his face and punched him repeatedly in it. He then tried to prevent Scott from getting up. Token teleported, blocking his way.

It was amazing, Ike thought, how little they were affected. Those wounds and bruises had to hurt a lot. How could they get up and keep fighting so quickly? There wasn't even pain in their faces when they were hit. Nothing.

He jumped in time to avoid Clyde knocking him over. He pulled his wings, but there was no reaction from him apart from the resistance. Yes, that was wrong. It should have hurt like hell. Clyde managed to escape and got up. Ike punched him in an eye, then in the stomach.

It was then when his eyes fixed on Timmy.

He didn't move from a safe distance, unnoticed, watching everything that was happening calmly from his chair, with the cold scrutiny of a chess player, his eyes narrowed, his fingers caressing the leather arm of his wheelchair.

Ike knew from the moment he saw him what was going on.

"TIMMY'S CONTROLLING THEM! HE'S DOING ALL OF THIS!"

But nobody came to help him, because they were too busy trying not to die in the hands of their friends. The only one who heard him, unfortunately, was Timmy himself.

Casting his eyes upon the youngest Broflosvki, he squinted even more and Ike gasped, that gasp turning into a scream. His head was starting to hurt so much, like some truck was driving over it, smashing it, like something he had never felt before.

"Ike!" hearing his brother scream, Kyle looked around him desperately, trying to find him and save him from whatever was making him scream, but he couldn't because Craig missed by a foot, making a new hole in the ground with his fist. Taking advantage of his condition, Jimmy mowed him down, making him roll in the ground. He then raised one of his crutches and Ike barely had time to duck.

He saw what to do.

He tried to punch Jimmy in the nose. Of course, Jimmy was fast enough to grab his hand before he did it. However, he didn't know it was a distraction: Ike's real aim was his gonads. A strong kick was enough to make him drop to his knees. Quickly, Ike grabbed one of his crutches and, with all his might, threw it straight to Timmy's head. It was too late for Timmy to react. The hit cut his swollen head open and made him lean so much to the right that he fell from his wheelchair.

The attackers stopped. Scott and Tweek fell to the ground. Scott breathed with difficulty, very pale—finally, he found his syringe and managed to inject himself the insulin.

Craig buried his face in his hands. Some seconds later, he looked up at Kyle.

"...What...What happened?" he muttered.

Clyde touched his eye. It hurt a lot, and the worst thing was that he didn't know why it did.

"Guys? Why are you bleeding?" Token looked at his hand. "Why am I bleeding too?"

"It was that guy! He was controlling you like puppets! He made you attack us!" Ike pointed at Timmy.

"...What?"

All eyes turned to the handicapped lying on the ground.

"You...mother...fucking...bastard..."

Timmy did not use his powers to defend himself or try to escape. He let Craig kick him in the stomach and grab him by the hair.

"How could you?!"

"You're dead. I swear to God I'm gonna kill you." Kyle walked to them with his fist ready to punch Timmy's face.

"Timmy..."

"Wait." Jimmy took a step forward. "Wait, guys, please."

Timmy looked up to look at his friend, but quickly turned his head, unable to do so.

"Tim-Tim, why...Just...Just why?"

Timmy closed his eyes and weakly touched his temple with his index fingers.

 _["I'm not proud of what I've done...but I never wanted to hurt you guys..."]_

"Do you think that saying that is going to save your ass?" Tweek replied, wiping the blood from his nose.

 _["Of course not. You can beat me to death. I deserve that. But first I want you to know why I did it."_ ]

"Don't listen to him, guys." Cartman warned them.

Timmy raised a finger to his head.

"Look out!" Cartman shouted.

But no one could do anything. Soon, the road, the wrecked car, everything disappeared...

* * *

 _..But they were still in the street. They recognize which one it was, a few blocks away. They were crossing a pedestrian crossing. All sounds had been replaced by a Metallica song. Even though some of them didn't like that band or even the genre, they all felt endorphins dancing inside of their bodies, making them feel great._

 _"Timmy...Tim...Timmeh..."_

 _They understood what was happening. They were seeing one of Timmy's memories from his point of view. They were hearing what he was hearing, seeing what he was seeing. Yes, it was precisely that. The view turned to his lap as he put a hand inside of his pocket to get the keys of his house._

 _Timmy had barely taken them when everything went dark. The streetlights and the light coming out of people's houses put out all of a sudden and it didn't come back minutes later. Timmy didn't think about it. He loved that guitar solo. He just groaned in frustration when he wasn't able to put the key into the keyhole once he got home._

 _As expected, his house was all dark too. He removed his headphones. No sound was heard._

 _"Timmy!" he announced his coming to his parents._

 _"Timmy!" his mother replicated._

 _The voice came from the kitchen. And he didn't like what he heard. She sounded tense, scared. Timmy got scared too._

 _"...Mom?" he asked._ _He went as fast as his wheelchair allowed him to the source of the voice._

 _He expected her to have fallen from her chair in one of her attempts to do more than she could, and that his father, who didn't have to work that night, had not been able to get her up._

 _He never suspected he would find both of them on the floor and, standing next to them, a blond young man wo brought light to the kitchen with the screen of the phone. Timmy's heart skipped a beat._

 _"I see you have no curfew." the stranger spoke with a Brittish accent. Timmy didn't know him but it seemed the stranger did know him._

 _["Who are you?!"] Timmy sent him a telepathic message._

 _"Don't worry, I am not interested in your money or possessions. I came here to talk to you."_

 _["Get out of my house NOW!"]_

 _The intruder suddenly writhed in pain, raising a hand to touch his head. Timmy wasn't sure of what was happening, but whatever it was, he was responsible and that man deserved it, so he didn't make it stop. The intruder managed to talk through the agony._

 _"I...have to send a message in...ung...fifteen minutes.!" he said, showing the phone to Timmy. "If they don't receive it, they have orders to kill your parents...Do you understand?!"_

 _Timmy doubted. Then, he commanded his brain to stop the torture. The blond man only needed a moment to breath and recover._

 _"Alright...That was very sensible from you."_

 _["Who is they?"] Timmy demanded to know._

 _"That doesn't matter. I will go straight to the point: I know about your abilities. You just gave me a sample. From now on, you are going to do with them as I tell you."_

 _["Go fuck yourself"] Timmy mentally growled._

 _"Timothy Burch, twenty-one years old, born in New England and moved to South Park at the age of eight. Bachelor in Science, since you were eighteen you have been a monitor at Lake Tardicaca, entertaining and taking care of handicapped children. Children like you when you were younger. Children like Harry Glenn, Penny McDonald, Andy Smith..."_

 _["Don't you dare..."] Timmy made the reflex movement of getting up from his wheelchair, although he could only get up a few inches._

 _"That depends on you. Only you."_

 _["I'm not going to do anything."]_

 _"I see I'll have to be a little bit more convincing."_

 _He approached Mr. Burch, extending an arm towards him. That was too much for Timmy. He charged, but there were two factors which made the fight unfair: the trespasser was fit, and he was abled, too. First, he punched Timmy in the face. Timmy's friends felt a sharp pain in the nose. Next, he knocked his wheelchair down. Mrs. Burch screamed, trying to crawl to her son. He left Timmy lying on the floor to grab her by an arm; she whimpered with fear._

 _"Last chance, Timothy. Do you appreciate your parents and pupils enough?"_

 _Timmy raised his eyes to his parents. They were obviously having a very stressing moment, not knowing how that person could be conversating with their son when he didn't move his lips, not understanding what he wanted from him. His mother was crying. His father was only able to say 'Richard! Richard!'. They were completely defenseless._

 _All of them felt the horrible lump in Timmy's throat._

* * *

It was all a trip to be back to the present reality. It took them a moment to remember what had happen and where they were.

"Don't trust him, guys!" Cartman was the first to speak. "He's trying to make himself look like a martyr, showing us fake memories!"

Silence.

"...I believe him." Jimmy finally said, walking to his friend's side to help him get back to his wheelchair.

"Me too." Clyde joined him.

"Are you crazy?! After all he's done?!" Cartman looked at everyone with his eyes wide open and his arms spread.

 _["It was me the one who made Mr. Kern and Ned shoot at you guys. I also convinced Towelie that you guys had meth you could share with him. I made Doctor Mephesto show me the portal to Imaginationland and open it, to set the critters free. I took Bebe and gave her to them. I made those disgusting men attack her, when the convicts were released...I did everything..."]_

"Gregory..." Kyle placed a hand on his head. "But...why? Why would Gregory do that?"

 _["He never told me. All I know is that he wanted to put the blame on Butters. As for Kern, Ned and Towelie...He said he wanted you to fight people who were dear to you..."]_

"Well, Towelie's more of an acquaintance, really." Cartman commented.

 _["It seems he wants to test all of you...But I don't know for what purpose..."]_

"Well, Stan's going to find out." Ike commented.

"Oh, shit, Stan!" Kyle suddenly gasped, and used his powers to fly away, as fast as his little domination allowed him.

"He can fly too?" Craig raised his eyebrows.

"Come on, I hope it's not too late!" Token made his partners touch him and they teleported all together.


	26. Memories past

Gregory caressed Wendy's soft chin and then brushed her hair gently with his fingers. Wendy did not react to his amorous gestures—sat on the couch, she was just there, breathing and nothing else.

"My dear Wendy..." Gregory muttered.

He left her side for a second to walk to the window of the living room and take a look outside. He couldn't see or hear anything from his house—he would have to trust Timmy managing the situation well. But it was being difficult to trust him lately. He was a mentally challenged man but he was not a fool. Since Wendy wasn't functioning and, therefore, he didn't have to take precautions about his communications, he used his phone to contact Nathan.

"Boss." Nathan's voice replied. Judging the background noise, he was at his workplace.

"It's time you and Mimallah go pay Mr. and Mrs. Burch a visit. Just do enough for Timmy to know he should respect me. But before you go, check on Coon and Friends to see if they killed each other already."

"On our way."

Gregory hanged up and turned around. Wendy was in the same position as he had left her. He was returning to her side when they rang at the door.

"Gregory?"

Gregory frowned. He would call Nathan later to change the plans about the Burches: Timmy deserved a punishment for spoiling everything.

He walked to the door, but didn't open it immediately. Stan heard his steps and saw the light coming from the windows. He knew there was someone at home.

"Gregory, it's me, Stanley...Stanley Marsh. Uh...Yeah, it's been a long time and all but this is important. I got a cry for help from Wendy and I have to know if she's here with you."

"I'm sorry, Stanley. Wendy isn't here at the moment."

"...Okay...Uh, look, something happened to her. May I come in? Please, let me in. I know we're not super-best friends but I care about Wendy too, and she might be in danger."

Gregory, after a moment of thought, opened the door and offered him to come in with a gesture.

"Thanks. What was the last time you saw or ta-"

Stan saw her. Wendy, sitting on the sofa, completely indifferent to his coming, looking into space. He didn't have the chance to open his mouth: Gregory wrapped his arms around him and squeezed until he was deprived from oxygen.

"Stan comes to save the day once again, eh?" Gregory spouted.

He closed the door, then crouched down to carefully grab, not leaving his finger prints on the surface, what fell from Stan's hands: a couple of screwdrivers. He smirked, putting them away in a drawer in the hall.

"I will never understand what you saw in him." he commented to his insensitive lover, dragging him to the basement.

It was then when Timmy, after receiving a painful hit in the head with Jimmy's crutch, broke all mental control and Wendy blinked. She looked around, finding herself back to Gregory's house. She stood up and trembling, touching herself because she felt strange in her own body, rushed to the hall. There, she saw Gregory dragging Stan.

"You son of a bitch!"

Gregory dropped Stan. Wendy ran to him, but he grabbed her wrist and twisted it, hurting her.

"Did nobody tell you that it isn't right to control your partner?" Gregory pushed her until he got to press her against the wall. The fitness she had always admired was now an inconvenience. "I am upset, Wendy..."

"Stan! Stan!" Wendy called him, but Stan didn't move. "What have you done to him?! And Timmy?! What the hell are you doing?!"

"You don't need to know. But I will tell you something: you made a terrible mistake interfering. We could have been very happy, Wendy, and you spoiled it all."

Wendy bit the arm which was holding her and pounced on him. He managed to push her to the floor and grab her by the neck. Wendy scratched that pretty boy's face of his, and Gregory squeezed her.

"This is a pity, because I really liked you. I liked you more than I did when I first met you thirteen years ago...So beautiful, so intelligent...But not enough, it seems. Look what you made me do..."

Wendy was sure she had sent an alert message to the police and all of her friends, why was no one else coming? Gregory was squeezing harder and harder, her face was getting red. And Stan wasn't moving yet. Wendy prayed to God that Gregory hadn't broken his neck.

God seemed to listen. Oxygen came back to Stan's brain. He opened his eyes. It was almost a good thing he found himself lying on his stomach, because he felt he wouldn't be able to keep his balance. When he saw Gregory choking Wendy, he forced himself to stand up.

"WENDY!"

He grabbed Gregory by the hair and puller him away from the girl, with so much force that he was left with some hair and a bit of scalp in his hand. Wendy rolled to her side and took deep breath with her mouth wide open, touching the finger marks on her neck.

It was Stan's turn to immobilize Gregory on the floor.

"Is this how you treat your girlfriend, motherfucker?! Heh?! I am going to make your life a living hell...You are never touching her again!"

"Stan! He's been...manipulating Timmy..."

A small distraction, when Stan cocked his head to look at Wendy, was enough for Gregory to fight back. He kneeled Stan in the stomach, then punched him in the nose and pushed him aside in order to get up. A kick in the face with his perfectly polished shoes made Stan fall again.

"Too bad your uncle missed the shot..."

Wendy, still recovering, tried to get up, and she was easily knocked down.

Gregory walked to the drawer of the hall. He first took the gloves he kept there, put them on and finally grabbed one of the screwdrivers he had taken from Stan.

"Your ability is very unusual. A little bit useless...But this gives me an idea..."

He turned his eyes to Wendy, walking to her.

"Everybody knows that you couldn't believe Wendy left you, and that you started drinking too much...You just couldn't see her with another man..."

"I said you're not touching her!"

With a new kick to the face, he had Stan under control. Stan took a second to breath and then stood up. With difficulty, but he managed to do it. Hatred, seeing Wendy in danger, gave him the force.

"The hero..."

Gregory turned his back on him and turned to Wendy.

"Boy, it sure stung a lot that you weren't the one who saved Terrance and Phillip."

Although Gregory's face remained cold as stone, there was a subtle glimpse in his eyes that told Stan that he had put his finger on the sore spot.

"...You didn't even have a plan. I did. It was my idea to get Mole's help. I encouraged the other children...Without me, you wouldn't have done anything at all and gotten everyone killed...Like you did to Mole...All you did was to spoil everything I had planned carefully. And, somehow this...whore preferred you over me...You...a child who played to be someone important..."

"It was never a matter of glory, Gregory. Not to us. I'm sorry if you had your own priorities."

Gregory tensed his muscles.

"Enough talking. let's get this done."

He raised the screwdriver, ready to stab Wendy in the head with it.

She spat in his eye, allowing her to get up and grab him. Stan ran to help her. He extended an arm. He felt there was something somewhere. Yes, behind that door. It opened due to something pushing hard enough to get out. A drill flew to Stan's hand. He pressed its tip against the base of his skull.

"Since you know about my powers, I guess you have an idea of what I can do with this..."

Gregory felt the tool hot, even if it wasn't plunged, and obeyed. Wendy rushed to grab rope she found inside of the same closet and tied him with it.

"You deserve everything bad that can happen to a person..."

Standing up, she sighed and looked at Stan.

"...Are you alright?"

"Well, I'm not ready to go to the ball, precisely...But I'm still breathing...You?"

He touched her cheek, and he realized later that it wasn't really appropiate, so he removed the hand quickly.

"...I'm alright. I'm so sorry...I...I was so stupid to trust this...this piece of shit...I didn't know he..."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. I should have known there was something wrong too."

"Are you sure you are okay?"

"He just kicked me over and over, don't worry."

"Stan..."

"Yes, Wendy?"

Wendy swallowed.

"...That folder...with our photos..."

"What f-Oh. Right."

"Why didn't you erase them?"

"Because...Well, I've been in love with you since I was eight years old. Of course I couldn't just erase all those memories with a click."

"Yes, I-I guess so...But Stan...I really can't understand you. Help me understand, please. Why did you distance yourself from me? Why didn't you want to move with me?"

"Because I was so afraid to lose you...You...know that sometimes I screw up really bad. You've given me tons of chances already. And when you said you wanted us to live together, I...panicked. That was such a big step to me...We'd see each other all day and night and there'd be plenty of chances for me to fuck up...I wanted this time to be the definitive and...and..."

Stan had to stop. He was suffering a pretty bad retching.

"Sorry..."

"It's okay."

"I feared losing you so much that I ended up losing you for real. See? I'm a motherfucking idiot who makes no sense."

Stan drew a little smile, almost looking like a puppy. Wendy smiled too. After wiping the blood of Stan's lip with her fingers, she placed her hand on his chest.

"Yes. A little bit."

And she kissed his lips. Stan held her tight, so tight, as if he was preventing her from falling or running away. He was feeling so ecstatic that it was turning his stomach. He had to break the kiss for a second to step aside and throw up. Once he recovered his breath he was about to resume it but Wendy stopped him.

"Uhm, you'd better not..."

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry."

But she could still hug him, and that was what she did.

The door opened discreetly. A person watched the scene, but did not intend to be a voyeur. Nathan silently aimed the rifle he was carrying in his hands and aimed at Stan.

He was knocked down so suddenly that he couldn't help letting out a scream, which alerted the people inside of the house. Nathan found himself lying on the floor by Mimsy's side, and over him, stepping on the weapon, Jimmy smiled.

"N-Nice to see you again, Nathan, ol' pal."

"Hello, Jimmy! We thought we killed you!" Mimsy replied.

"Too good to be true..." Nathan muttered, shaking his head.

"Guys! Are you alright?!" Kyle ran inside the house.

"Yeah. And I see you're okay too..." he looked at the others behind him with a wary expression.

"Gregory forced Timmy to control them and attack us."

"What? Is that true, Timmy?"

"So that's the summer job you told me about, messing with handicapped people..." Wendy glared at him.

"Alright, alright, everyone, what's all this hullaballoo about?" Officer Barbrady made his way into the house, looking everywhere and to everyone. He didn't seem to understand the explanation he was given, but he understood that the Coon was there, there was a gun on the floor and three people had been reduced.

"Very well, I am taking these rascals to the police station...Let's see if I can finally figure out what's going on."

Gregory was being properly handcuffed at the living room, much to Stan's satisfaction, to join Nathan and Mimsy inside his car when he raised his voice.

"Well, if I have to fall, I won't do it alone."

Wendy could barely hide how much she wanted to slap that man until her hands started bleeding, but she placed her hands on her waist and listened to what Gregory had to say.

"If I did what I did, it was because someone convinced me. The director of the company I am an investor to. I didn't recognize him but he didn't seem to forget about me. We were both involved in La Resistance, during the war against Canada. We first talked about those times, and his tone got more aggressive. He reminded me of what you did to my plan, how you stole Wendy from me. He didn't stop until he sparked the idea. He told me about your powers and weaknesses. He told me Timothy was a very powerful individual, and adviced me to submit him, and showed me how, what screws I should tighten. He told me to give Stan and his friends...tests. Yes, something to be busy with. A lot of chances to fight or die. His own uncle, friends...This way, I hoped to convince Wendy to stay with me, to show her how incompetent Stan was—and if he died, he would be out of the way forever. This person has been following your steps. He is-"

 ** _BANG!_**

Clyde's face, behind Gregory, was stained with a red pulp. He jumped back, disgusted, letting out a scream. When Barbrady let Gregory go, he fell to the floor like a dummy. Everyone turned to the broken window.

"Gregory!" Wendy gasped, shaking him.

Tweek knew what to do and quickly placed his hands on his head. But nothing happened. His hands didn't even glow this time.

"I-I think he's dead..."

 ** _BANG!_**

Token teleported outside.

"TWEEK!" he called.

Cartman was lying on the lawn, with a hand on his stomach.

"He...He escaped..." he said, raising a finger covered in blood, trying to point into a certain direction but unable to do it.

The rifle Nathan had tried to use was on the ground, a few yards away from Cartman. The two handicapped were still on the car, trying to watch what was going on outside.


	27. Coon and Friends

Cartman sighed.

"I told you, I'm fine."

"Just wait a moment for the analysis results." the nurse seemed to be deaf or something, because she didn't listen to him and walked out of the room.

Of course, Tweek had healed him in time and he felt perfectly fine. But emergencies did not believe him when he told them. There was a protocol to follow, he was told. So he had to spend the rest of the night at the hospital. The rest of the gang underwent several examinations too, but theirs were much shorter—no one had seen them getting shot at.

Gregory's body was taken to the autopsy room. Wendy was so silent, so shocked that she was offered psychological aid. She refused it—all she needed was to wrap her arms around Stan and never let him go. Clyde had the idea of commenting to her that his blood tasted delicious, but he never actually told her, thinking that perhaps she didn't want to hear that.

Tweek and Craig were also embraced when something behind them scared them.

"Where is Gregory?"

"Fuck dammit, Mysterion!" Craig complained, placing a hand on his chest.

"Where have you been? You're not gonna believe what you missed h-" Stan told him.

"Where is Gregory?" Mysterion insisted.

"Dead." Wendy replied in low voice, but Mysterion heard it.

"And Cartman?"

"He was shot too," Scott replied, "but he's alright, they are exam-"

"Good, because I am going to kill him with my own hands..." he marched towards the door of the room with such hot blood that everyone saw he was being serious.

"Whoa, whoa! Man! What are you doing?!" Token stopped him, blocking his path.

"Gregory was the executor but he was the director!"

Stan and Wendy got up from their seats.

"...What?" Jimmy muttered.

"Don't you find it weird that there's a madman with superpowers loose and he never did anything to find and stop him? He wanted Butters to keep causing chaos—he even made things easier for him and his minions, providing assault rifles to them. Those weapons came from a company called Cartman Rifles!"

"Cartman Rifles? So that's what his company was about? That's where he wanted me to work? A gun manufacture?!" Kyle walked to Mysterion.

"And Gregory..." Wendy looked at her feet, thinking frenetically.

"Gregory was one of the main investors. His family did well enough but he got really loaded with his investments. Cartman Rifles is a bestseller after the recent riots, the insecurity in general, terrorist groups and war outside of the United States..."

"The advocate for human rights!" Wendy couldn't help exclaiming.

"That's where they met. Think about it: unless Wendy told Gregory everything about us, which she didn't, how could Gregory know?"

"I-I don't get it..." Clyde said. "I can understand the money issue...But why would he want to test us, like Gregory said? What does he get from us fighting critters and criminals?"

"I say we go in there and punch him until he tells us..." Stan said, clenching his fists.

"Good idea."

The group came into the room and the others followed.

"Hey, guys, could you bring me a chocolate bar from the machine or something? I'm starving."

Cartman was sitting on one side of the bed. He looked really weird with the hospital gown and the Coon mask on—those didn't fit very well. But he had to protect his civilian identity, he said. He didn't seem to care.

He was suddenly grabbed by Tweek, who stripped his mask off to see his face.

"What the hell do you think you are playing to?!"

"Hey, what are you doing, asshole?" Cartman protested. "Guys!"

"You convinced Gregory to do all of this and blame Butters for it! You told him all about our powers! You commanded him!" Stan shouted.

"That's not true! What the hell are you talking about?! NUUURSE!"

Ike closed the door and stood behind it, with his arms crossed, so that no one could hear him shout or come in—oh, but, of course, he was going to record that moment.

"Why did you do this to us, Cartman?! Is it because of the money?!" Token confronted him.

"I seriously don't know what you're talking about! Ask those two cripples, they have to know what Gregory was up to!"

"Guys, guys!" Craig extended his arms. "I guess we are overestimating him..."

"Sure! I...What?"

"Look at him. A guy who dresses himself with the same costume he used to play with when he was ten years old. Do you think he can be the mastermind of something?"

"WELL, THIS MASTERMIND GOT TO FOOL YOU, STUPID ASSHOLE!"

Cartman fell quiet. Craig smiled, satisfied.

"...Uh..."

"Aha...Now, this is interesting." Wendy narrowed her eyes.

"I...Well, I didn't mean..."

"Timmy, if you please..."

"Huh? No..." Cartman couldn't stand up because Clyde was blocking the way. He couldn't move outside of the bed, so there he stayed, drawing back until he touched the headboard.

Scott and Jimmy stepped aside to let Timmy approach. He fixed his eyes on Cartman and the fat man quivered.

"Guys...He's raping my mind...He's raping my fucking mind! D-Do something!"

But none of them did anything apart from watching. Cartman looked around desperately, finding hostile looks. Horror was taking over him.

"Please, guys, I'm innocent...I don't know why I said what I said...You got me nervous...But I swear, I have nothing to do with this...I-I mean, I didn't profit from this..."

He couldn't stand all those accusing eyes on him! They were driving him crazy!

 **"OKAY, I DID IT! I FUCKING DID IT! I PRESSED THAT FUCKING YARDALE PRICK UNTIL HE WANTED REVENGE! I TOLD HIM TO FIND US THREATS SO WE WOULD HAVE SOMEONE TO FIGHT AND HE GOT THE CHANCE TO SEE STAN KILLED! IT WAS MY IDEA TO ABDUCT BEBE SO WE COULD SAVE HER OVER AND OVER! I TOLD HIM EVERYTHING I KNOW ABOUT YOUR STUPID POWERS AND HOW TO BLACKMAIL TIMMY BEFORE HE READ OUR MINDS AND SPOILED EVERYTHING! YES, I BLAMED BUTTERS FOR EVERYTHING! YES, I HAVE BEEN TAKING A GOOD PROFIT OUT OF THE SITUATION, SELLING MY GUNS TO THE SCARED CITIZENS AND THE CRIMINALS! AND I KILLED GREGORY AND SHOT MYSELF WHEN I HEARD HE WAS GIVING ME AWAY!"**

Silence. Cartman panted, his face all red.

Timmy slowly removed his finger from his temple and leaned forward, gripping the armrest of his wheelchair, making it squeak.

 _["I don't know what's keeping me from destroying you..."]_

"Did you hear that, guys? He says he wants to destroy me!" Cartman looked around him.

"If he's not going to do it, I will." Token took a step towards him.

"You fucking monster..." Craig also seemed to be eager to put his hands on Cartman.

"Guys, wait." Kyle suddenly stood in the way.

"Get out of our way, Kyle!" Tweek exclaimed.

"Oh! Kyle! Thank goodness!" Cartman gasped. "I knew you'd-"

"Why did you want us to rescue Bebe and fight people, Cartman?" Kyle calmly asked.

"I..I don't know, there's no..."

"Cartman. Why."

"...Coon and Friends."

"...What?" Scott blinked.

Cartman didn't continue. He didn't need to.

"The suits...Of course..." Wendy looked at her friends. "He wanted us to be a team of superheroes."

"And be the leader..." Mysterion glared at Cartman.

"Well...You were...doing nothing with them...This time...you were really actual mutants..."

"I can't f-fucking believe this..." Jimmy had to look away because he couldn't look at Cartman without feeling his blood boil.

Kyle finally turned around, after a long moment of silence, and looked at Cartman. A spark of hope illuminated the fat man's face.

It was then when Kyle wrecked said hope.

"Timmy. We understand why you did what you did. All of us would have done the same in your situation. You are forgiven. But I think you can do something to redeem yourself."

A sinister curve in the handicapped's face made Cartman desperate. He punched Clyde out of his way and ran towards the door. Nobody stopped him. Nobody tried to because he didn't go far. He stopped all of a sudden, in front of Ike, his hand extended to push him aside and grab the doorknob, his mouth wide open, trying to scream but unable to do it. His limbs shook.

Ike grinned maliciously while focusing the recording on his face.


	28. An epilogue and a prologue

Stan's lips smooched Wendy's cheeks and travelled down to her neck. Wendy giggled, playfully pushing him away, though with not much force.

"Stanley, not here..."

"It's okay, guys." Kenny smiled, shrugging.

It was very peaceful there, at the Town Square. Stan and Wendy were not the only couple who was there kissing. They saw Big Gay Al and Mr. Slave with their adopted children, having a little picnic under a tree; Red and Kevin Stoley with their eyes on their respective phones but hugging each other; Francis, from school, with his new girlfriend...It was really heartwarming to see that the time of fear had passed and now people were not afraid to go out. This atmosphere reminded Kyle to find the old notebook where he used to write phones and make a few calls later.

Leaning on the fence until they decided to go to the bus stop, the three of them were drinking soda, enjoying doing nothing. They had talked about how assholes Craig and Tweek had been but now they just enjoyed the peace and quiet, contemplated everything and everyone around them, and Stan could give Wendy the kisses he felt he owed to her.

Yes, everybody thought that Craig and Tweek had behaved like douchebags. They were friends, weren't they? After all that had happened, very close friends. So why didn't they invite them to the wedding? Why didn't they tell them they were going to get married in the first place? That crap about wanting it to be done as soon as possible, not caring about the money or the details, after all that had happened, wasn't an excuse. As private as that wedding was, they could have told them, at least. They had to find out when Wendy saw the photos on their families' social media and, a day later, photos of them in Washington D.C. By the way, much to Mr. Tucker's relief, both Craig and Tweek kept their own family names.

Anyway, they didn't need them. They managed well on their own. They were eleven and now that there was no one screwing around, there wasn't much to do. Bebe could breathe again—although Nicole had told Wendy that she had caught her in the middle of the railroad and driving with no caution so that that guy, the Mosquito, would come and save her.

As for Butters, they didn't hear from him again and nothing happened that could be attributed to him. Kenny had him in his mind very often, most of the time with sorrow. He expected him to show himself in any moment. He hoped he would. Professor Chaos—Butters had to be somewhere, licking his wounds, waiting to strike again. He had to. Day by day, Kenny always blamed himself for not being able to make him stop and go back with them, get help...

Anyway, he had to think of the future. Now he was not defending South Park alone.

They called themselves Freedom Pals.

They were beginners, but they were learning fast. Last time, when a man tried to commit suicide, dragging his wife and children with him, Scott managed to solve the situation without hurting anybody. Officer Barbrady was being very nice to them. Everybody prefered Sargeant Yeats (as much as police brutality against people of color had decreased considerably after he was gone) but Officer Barbrady seemed to have learned a lot during his long leave to learn how to read. He knew about their secret identities and managed to keep the secret. Whenever there was an emergency, as soon as he knew about it, he passed it to Wendy and, with the help of Timmy, spread the word to her friends—the fittest or the closest to the scene would take care of it. Any other policeman would have been upset that they took their jobs, but there had never been many agents in South Park, and the tragic events had decimated them, and not many people were wanting to take the job. Also, in spite of Kyle's initial reluctance, Ike's labor as the 'community manager' of the group contributed to their acceptance in the community. His videos and photos arised so much curiosity that the South Parkers couldn't wait for another bank robbery or assault to see those masked vigilantes. The successes they saw made up for the times when they screwed up. The young Broflosvki had even received juicy offers from national television companies and newspapers to talk about them, but he always refused. He was devoted to them with just one condition: that they addressed him as 'Smuggler Maplebeard the Pirate King', the name by which he signed his reports.

They all had fictional names. Names rescued from the deepest part of their memory. Human Kite, Toolshed, Call Girl, Mosquito, Wonder Tweek, Captain Diabetes, Tupperware, Fastpass, Doctor Timothy and Super Craig. The children they once were, who made up the game, would have been amazed if they knew that all their make-believe would become true, suits included. They had to give it to Cartman: he had good taste designing costumes. They were comfortable to wear, adapted to their powers well, helped them protect their identities and, most of all, they didn't find themselves ridiculous at all with them on. Not even Kyle, who's costume suffered a very decent make over, or Token, who used to wear literal tuppers as an armor. The only one who made a few modifications was Wendy, adding much more fabric to it.

"Move that fat ass!" Kyle shouted, and laughed.

They had to worry about relationships, career, money, family and superhero matters now, yes, but there was always time for a little entertainment.

And, boy, was that hilarious.

Cartman, dressed with a very tight, short and flashy skirt and a black top, with his face full of the sluttiest make up they could find, had managed to stop a truck.

"Hello, cowboy! Me so horny! I suckie-suckie to you! Free!"

They didn't know what the truck driver's tastes were, or for how long he had been alone on the road, but he opened the door so that Cartman could get inside. They couldn't help laughing at the way his fat butt moved when he climbed the stairs to the driver's cabin, and how he immediately got into business with that old, ugly guy.

 _["There's a big fight at the bar; Fastpass and Tupperware are already on it."]_

"Got it, Doc, thank you." Wendy replied aloud, still laughing at Cartman, as the truck drove to a more discreet place.

* * *

 **THE END**


End file.
